Reciprocity
by JLCH
Summary: Takes place after "Half-Wit". Cuddy is devastated that House may have cancer and then she discovers he faked it. The fallout forces them both to face some truths...about themselves and each other. A Huddy story!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I loved the episode "Half-Wit" including the Huddy scenes which were so very much "them" but I also believed that the Cuddy we knew and loved would've been distraught over his diagnosis and that she would've gone to great lengths to try and help him. I also believe once she found out he'd lied, she would've been pissed and she would've let him know it too! This story goes there.

House and Cuddy share a long and complicated history. They're both screwed up and even when they don't think they need each other, they do. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

* * *

_**Reciprocity: **T__he act of responding to a positive action with another positive action. To give and take mutually; and to return in kind.  
_

* * *

It was late Friday night and Cuddy couldn't sleep. She'd arrived home so exhausted that she'd headed straight for the shower and then to bed. She tossed and turned for hours, going over the things that weighed heavily on her mind.

First there was little Emily Warren who had been brought to the Emergency Room two weeks earlier because she was having adverse side effects to her cancer treatment. Wilson had been treating her for Neuroblastoma over the course of the last few months and upon learning of her emergency room visit, he ran the necessary tests and quickly determined the treatment was not working. Upon learning she was terminal, he had immediately admitted her in an effort to give her palliative care and make her more comfortable.

Cuddy, who had always had a special fondness for the kids in the cancer ward, had met Emily during her cancer treatment a few months earlier and she had been immediately smitten. Emily was a lovely little girl with large expressive brown eyes and a sweet smile. Removed from her abusive home at just a year old, she was immediately fostered with the Warrens and their five biological children, who fell in love with her and eventually adopted her.

Upon hearing that Emily was admitted and losing her battle, Cuddy visited the little girl as often as she could. She didn't understand the pull Emily had on her, but it was there and just seeing the little girl brightened her day. She read Emily stories and sat with her when her parents needed to tend to the other children.

No one outside Wilson and the floor nurses knew Cuddy had been spending time with the little girl. She had intentionally kept that from House out of fear he would mock her. Cuddy knew Emily did not have much time and she wanted to enjoy the time with her, not being mocked and insulted by House.

_House._ He was the other matter consuming her thoughts. Four days earlier, Chase had informed her that House was possibly interviewing for a position at Massachusetts General Hospital. Cuddy immediately contacted them only to discover he wasn't going there for an interview or friendly visit. It hadn't taken her long to deduct from Dr. Medick's cryptic comments that he was being seen as a patient in the Oncology department. She had later confirmed with Wilson that the physician was a renowned brain cancer specialist. Suddenly feeling sick, she'd left work early, informing only Wilson and her assistant. She needed time to process the news alone.

When she arrived home she'd changed into her pajamas, opened a bottle of wine and sat on her couch crying. It was hard enough facing the eventual loss of the little girl she'd grown fond of but the thought of House having cancer devastated her. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. He'd been a part of her life for so long she sometimes thought of him as invincible. She wanted to go to him and hold him and tell him she'd be there to fight the disease right along with him. She wanted to confess to him things she'd kept bottled up for so long but as it was with them, fear restrained her from doing that. In the end, she stayed home, drinking wine and watching old movies and thinking up ways she might be able to save him until she fell asleep on the couch with the television on.

The next day she made a call to a longtime colleague and friend at Massachusetts General and convinced her she needed help accessing House's files. Her colleague at first refused to help her but after hearing Cuddy's pleas, she relented but swore her to secrecy. Hours later, pouring over the information, Cuddy immediately noticed things didn't add up. House was supposed to be in a somewhat advanced stage of illness yet he'd shown no symptoms that she could recall. She wracked her brain for signs she might have missed and came up with nothing. She realized something else was going on and her suspicions were confirmed when she read the last few pages in the file discussing the experimental drug trial. The drug had received accolades and high levels of success in treating depression in terminal cancer patients. That's when it hit her that House didn't have cancer, it was the drug he was after. With that realization, she felt sick to her stomach and ran to the bathroom and threw up. Later, she'd sat on the couch with the bottle of wine she'd opened the previous night. She was relieved House was not dying but angry at his lie, especially given a little girl who had never had a chance to live her life was wasting away in a hospital bed from the disease. For the second night in a row, she shed tears and fell asleep on the couch, the empty bottle of wine on the table beside her.

Cuddy sighed loudly in the dark. It had been four days since she first found out about his diagnosis and two since her discovery that he wasn't dying. In those two days she had successfully avoided him but knew it would not last long. She knew she would have to confront him but she wasn't ready yet, she was still too angry. She didn't care that he'd misled Wilson and his team but she was different. She and House had long history that went farther back than either of them had with anyone else outside their families and regardless of the sometimes turbulent nature of their relationship and there had been an unspoken trust there. She had _always_ trusted him when it mattered; that he didn't reciprocate that trust wounded her deeply. Her feelings for House ran deep and that he hurt her yet again forced her to rethink his role in her life. She couldn't fathom him not being a part of her life but she feared he may have given her no choice.

Cuddy rolled over on her side and pulled the covers up under her chin. She resolved not to think about it any longer. With an exhausted sigh, she closed her eyes and tried once again to get some sleep.

* * *

House sat at his piano playing a melancholy tune. He let his fingers drift over the keys and played whatever came to mind. The glass of scotch he'd poured ten minutes earlier was already empty. He hadn't planned to drink but changed his mind when his team left his apartment two hours earlier pissed at him for lying to them about his cancer diagnosis.

Did he think he'd really get away with faking cancer to get an experimental drug implanted in his brain? He thought for sure he could. He was almost there and then his team had to stick their noses into his business. He sensed Cameron was behind it. She had an annoying need to fix everyone and it irritated the hell out of him. He made a mental note to make her do not only his clinic hours for a month but those of the rest of the team as well.

His team thought he wanted the drug to get high but really it was about getting a respite from the pain and misery that pervaded his life. Despite what people thought about him, he didn't like being a miserable son of a bitch all the time, in fact, he'd grown weary of it. He just wanted to feel good like he had in the old days long before he'd become a cynical, bitter man. While it was his nature to be moody, hard to get along with and at times withdrawn; it had gotten far worse after the infarction. Wilson had told him that his pain was largely psychosomatic and House had balked at the idea but he was beginning to believe that it held _some_ merit, though he'd never tell his friend that. He'd never tell him that while he dealt with constant pain, he noticed his foul moods and high levels of stress at times affected the intensity of his physical pain.

After the ketamine failure, House was skeptical about trying any new treatments. He didn't want to put himself through the disappointment again. He feared getting his life back only to have it ripped away from him. But when he'd read the article in the New England Journal about Harvard's experimental drug for depression in terminal cancer patients and how it had been highly effective, he rethought his stance and considered the possibility that it just might work for him.

His fingers drifted across the keys effortlessly as he closed his eyes in thought. He'd been grateful for the short-lived Ketamine treatment. Thanks to Cuddy going against protocol and fighting for him, he'd been happy for the first time in a long time. He'd been able to do so many things he hadn't done in years. Running had quickly become his favorite activity and he took every opportunity to do it. It gave him a feeling of freedom he hadn't had in a very long time.

House had felt so good after the Ketamine treatment that he'd begun rethinking his life and what he wanted out of it. He considered radical changes which included taking a sabbatical and traveling around the world. He even considered approaching Cuddy about being her sperm donor so she could finally have the child she wanted. But not long after he'd decided to talk to her about it, the Ketamine wore off and the pain returned and permanently shelved those ideas.

When his thoughts drifted to Cuddy and how she had been his biggest champion for the Ketamine treatment. She knew about the studies done in Germany, she knew it had achieved some success but it was not officially sanctioned in the U.S. and so she received criticism from some of her colleagues. But she stood her ground and argued during that small window of opportunity when it needed to be administered, that if anyone was the model case for receiving it, it was House. He had learned from Wilson later that Cuddy had taken on the critics and they had backed down, especially after she assumed full responsibility for the consequences. She had gone to bat for him yet again, wanting him to have a fighting chance to live without pain.

He frowned when he thought about how she'd feel once she found out the truth-that he was not sick. He knew his team would eventually tell her what he'd done and she'd be pissed off. _So what else is new?_ He thought. This latest he assumed would not shock her at all. She'd likely consider it another in a long list of stunts he'd pulled over the years. It was no stunt though, it was serious. A chance not to eliminate his physical pain but at least some of his emotional pain, perhaps opening up to him opportunities in life he had long since denied himself thinking that the only life he would ever lead would be one in extreme pain.

He picked up the bottle of scotch and poured another drink. He wished he would've been able to talk to Cuddy about the experimental treatment. Maybe she would've come up with a better plan, something that didn't require faking a terminal illness. He trusted Cuddy with his life and nobody understood him like she did. _So why didn't I just tell her?_ He asked himself. After all, she'd consistently encouraged him to seek out new therapies for managing his physical pain and even attempted to get him to see a psychiatrist. Though she told him on a few occasions she thought his physical pain could be exacerbated by psychological issues, and though she claimed at one time to give him a placebo in his spinal injection, he knew she took his pain seriously. She had always been far more understanding of his pain than anyone else, including Wilson. He just wished he could talk to her about it.

House and Cuddy's unique relationship that bonded them in ways others could not understand was the reason he couldn't talk to her. They had a past, an intimate one and he'd always had feelings for her and because of that he could not share the deepest part of himself, his pain, with her. Talking to her about it meant letting her in and that would change the dynamics of their relationship and that scared him. He needed her in his life and if the dynamic changed and they lost what they had, he didn't know what he would do.

House hated that he felt that way, after all, Cuddy had stuck with him through so much over the years. She gave him a job when he needed it and arranged it as a permanent tenured position. She stepped in and looked after him after Stacy walked out, cooking him meals and helping change his bandages until he could do it himself. She'd administered the Ketamine and took charge of his case when he'd been shot, hardly ever leaving his side until he'd regained consciousness. Later, she'd committed perjury and saved him from jail and countless times defended him to lawyers, his colleagues, and the Board of Trustees.

Cuddy claimed her actions were just part of her job but House knew better. Her actions spoke volumes about the kind of woman she was. She was strong, intelligent, passionate, and caring. She was also fiercely loyal and as many times as she should've given up on House, she didn't. When everyone else had turned their backs on him, she remained and during those moments when life was dark and dreary and so painful he just wanted to end it all, it was thoughts of _her_ that got him through it.

Suddenly a sense of guilt washed over him. She was going to be angry when she found out what he had done. He did not want her get that information from his team. He needed to be the one to tell her. After all, he owed it to her. She was his constant, his friend, his...

He looked down and realized his fingers had long since stopped playing. He knew what he had to do. He got up, limped over to the table by the door and grabbed his jacket and keys and left.

* * *

Comments welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

_Suddenly a sense of guilt washed over him. She would be angry when she found out the truth. The last thing he wanted was for her to find out from his team. He needed to be the one to tell her. After all, he owed it to her; she was his constant, his friend, his..._

_He looked down and realized his fingers had long since stopped playing. He knew what he had to do. He got up, limped over to the table by the door and grabbed his jacket and keys and left._

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Noooo!" She groaned and put her pillow over her head.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Dammit!" She yelled. Knowing the all-too-familiar annoying sound would not cease on its own, she crawled out of bed and staggered toward the living room, throwing on her robe along the way but not bothering to tie it. Out of habit she glanced through the peephole not surprised to find herself staring into the tired blue eyes of her pain in the ass diagnostician. She placed her hand on the knob and groaned again as she opened the door. The wind preceding the incoming storm blew the door and her robe wide open.

"It's late. What are you doing here?" She growled.

With a lecherous grin, he surveyed her skimpy pajamas underneath the open robe. "My, my, Dr. Cuddy, is that how you greet men at your door in the middle of the night?"

"Men aren't usually banging on my door in the middle of the night." She tied her robe tightly and when he made a move to enter she moved slightly to her right to block him.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No."

"That's no way to greet a friend," he said with a fake pout.

She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. "Is that what we are House? _Friends_?"

"You've been avoiding me the last few days."

"No...I just had a lot of meetings."

He waggled his finger at her. "Now _that_ is a lie."

"You hacked into my calendar again, didn't you?" She hissed.

"Seriously, do you know me? It's either you're trying to avoid me or you're bitchier than usual. Your period's not due for another two weeks so..." He knew he should get to the point but this was part of their game. He'd poke the sharp stick at her and she'd poke right back. It was who they were.

Contrary to what House had expected, Cuddy didn't engage him in the game. Instead, she glared at him. Impatiently, she said, "House, if you came here to harass me, fine, you've done it. Now go home." She tried to close the door in his face but his cane stopped her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded.

She leaned forward, her eyes flashing with anger. "How dare _you_ even ask me that!"

Immediately he knew that _she_ knew.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

"That's right, _shit_! I know _everything_."

House panicked and instead of coming clean he immediately went on the defensive.

"It figures my team couldn't keep their mouths shut."

"What are you talking about? Your team has nothing to do with this."

"They didn't call you?" He looked puzzled.

"Do _you_ even know _me_? For your information I pulled a _House_ and I got my hands on your file from Mass General. Yep, I violated all kinds of ethics and privacy laws because I wanted to find a way to help you beat this thing. But as it turns out," she gave a mock laugh. "There's _nothing to beat_."

"I didn't tell anyone that I had cancer. You guys just assumed-"

"No!" She shook her finger at him. "Don't you dare turn this on us. You didn't think we'd wonder what was going on with you? When Chase came to me to tell me he thought you were had an interview at Mass General, of course I made calls. It didn't take long to figure it out you didn't and then of course I put two and two together and then I wanted to do something to help you. Did you think I'd just give you a hug and wish you luck and send you on your way?"

House hung his head. He hadn't been prepared that she would confront him first. Suddenly, it began to rain and the wind picked up behind him, blowing him a little off-balance. He held on to the door jamb to steady himself. He wanted to tell her why he'd done it but once again his brain and his mouth weren't cooperating.

"Why do you even care?" He blurted out unexpectedly.

She rubbed a hand over her face in frustration. "House, how can you even ask that question. How? I have _always_ cared. You're just unable to see it through your drug-induced haze and your narcissism and hatred for anyone other than yourself."

"I don't hate you, Cuddy," he said quietly.

She looked at him dejectedly. "Sometimes it feels like you do." She felt a tear falling but quickly wiped her eye.

"Oh come on, we've always played this-"

She put her hand up to cut him off. "House, it used to be fun trying to keep up with you but it's not anymore. I can't play this game, it hurts too much."

"Cuddy-"

"Goodbye, House." She stepped back and closed the door in his face and turned to lean against it, exhaling deeply, her head falling back against the door. It took everything she had not to break down in tears.

"Cuddy!" House yelled loudly as he banged on the door. The rain poured down in sheets and soaked him but he didn't care. He needed to talk to her, explain things. He was sure she'd understand. She always came around eventually. He leaned his head against the door and tapped with his cane hoping she'd give him a chance to explain.

Cuddy heard him yell her name, the sound of the rain and wind nearly drowning it out. She took a deep breath and turned to face the door. Her hand reached for the knob, nearly opening it, but instead moved up to the bolt and secured it in place. She walked back toward her bedroom, turning out lights along the way. She made sure both phones were turned off and then crawled under the covers.

House heard the bolt click and stood there speechless still staring at her door. Then the lights went out and he knew she wasn't coming back.

"Fuck!" _What the hell just happened?_ He'd gone over there to tell her the truth. He knew she'd be upset but he figured he could smooth it over as he'd always done. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd done something that would make her angry. Frustrated, cold, and wet, he limped through the pouring rain to where he'd parked his bike in front of her house. He climbed on, snapped his cane into place, put on his helmet and took off. He fishtailed a few times through the wet streets but soon gained traction as he headed out into the storm.

Cuddy laid in bed listening to the rain pelting her roof and shivered as the lightning lit up the sky outside her window. She wondered if he was still standing on her front porch and a moment later, the question was answered when she heard the sound of his motorcycle and then she knew he'd gone. She worried for his safety but again worrying about him caused pain in her heart, pain she could no longer bear. She rolled over and closed her eyes and tried to think of anything but House as she drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** When I was writing this, I felt the emotions. When you read it, you'll understand.

Many thanks to Cherokee Jedi for taking first peek and loving the hell out of it. Thanks also to Revelo1630, Tracyhepburnfan, Partypantscuddy and Surviva_chick all of whom heard my idea for this just before I penned it and all of whom read the first chapter long before I posted, so I could get an idea if it would work or not!

Thank you everyone who is reading this.

* * *

_House heard the bolt click and stood there speechless still staring at her door. Then the lights went out and he knew she wasn't coming back._

_"Fuck!" What the hell just happened? He'd gone over there to tell her the truth. He knew she'd be upset but he figured he could smooth it over as he'd always done. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd done something that would make her angry. Frustrated, cold, and wet, he limped through the pouring rain to where he'd parked his bike in front of her house. He climbed on, snapped his cane into place, put on his helmet and took off. He fishtailed a few times through the wet streets but soon gained traction as he headed out into the storm._

_Cuddy laid in bed listening to the rain pelting her roof and shivered as the lightning lit up the sky outside her window. She wondered if he was still standing on her front porch and a moment later, the question was answered when she heard the sound of his motorcycle and then she knew he'd gone. She worried for his safety but again worrying about him caused pain in her heart, pain she could no longer bear. She rolled over and closed her eyes and tried to think of anything but House as she drifted off to sleep._

* * *

The next day, Cuddy was in her office reviewing annual employee evaluations. It was a boring, tedious task and yet it had to be done. What made it worse is that it was Saturday. When she'd woke that morning, it was still raining and she figured her day would best be served by working.

Though it was early afternoon she was drinking coffee, something usually reserved for the early morning hours. She took large gulps intermittently in the hopes it would give her enough energy to make it through the day. She hadn't slept more than a few hours the night before, and though she immersed herself in work in an attempt to keep her mind occupied, her thoughts eventually turned to her problems. Between the workload at the hospital, her upcoming contract renewal, a dying little girl and House...she had a hard time concentrating. She hated taking her personal problems to work with her but she couldn't help it, she was in overload.

She looked at the clock. The highlight of her day would be her daily visit to see Emily, who was now at home and under hospice care. Seeing the little girl with the broad smile and laughing eyes always boosted her mood. Emily's mother had told her in great detail about the abuse the little girl had suffered at the hands of her biological mother and when Cuddy saw the love the Warren family showed Emily and the way they welcomed her into their own, it made her yearn even more for a child of her own.

Three times she tried, three times she failed, the last having resulted in a miscarriage. That was just before Thanksgiving. It had happened at home and Cuddy called her assistant that morning to let her know she was taking a few days off to see her family and everyone bought it, including House. During that time she stayed home, her blinds down, sulking and crying and sleeping her way through what should've been a festive occasion. Two days later, she returned to work, she was as professional and polished as ever, vowing not to let on the hurt that had pervaded her life.

The only one who knew the truth was Wilson and she'd told him a week after it happened, the day that House had been detoxing and told her she'd suck at being a mother. She'd managed to change her clothes and make it to her office before she broke down. Unfortunately Wilson walked in on her tears and she confessed to him the failed attempts to get pregnant and House's devastatingly cruel remarks. Wilson had tried to encourage her to talk to House but she refused and made him swear he would not reveal anything to his best friend.

With a sigh, she looked up, at any moment expecting House to barge into her office as he often did at least once a day. She'd assumed that since the conversation the previous night, he wouldn't be coming around as much anymore. She missed it and yet she knew she was right in keeping her distance. He only hurt her and that she could no longer tolerate.

She decided not to think about House, but rather the work that lay ahead of her. The sooner she finished it, the sooner she could head over to see Emily. She looked down at the file in front of her and, in a slightly better mood, proceeded to read it.

* * *

House stood at the door of his patient's room watching as Chase and Cameron held the patient down.

Foreman sidled up to House. "House, she can't keep up like this, the seizures are getting worse."

"We need to go in," House replied.

Foreman shook his head. "Cuddy's never going to sign off on that."

"You leave Cuddy to me," he said as he turned and limped toward the elevator. After last night's conversation House wondered what his next interaction with Cuddy would be like. He'd had a rough night with little sleep and was in no mood for confrontation. He had successfully avoided her most of the morning but he knew eventually he'd have to see her. His patient needed treatment, a risky one Foreman had suggested. They wanted to try a deep brain stimulation procedure to alleviate the frequent and severe seizures and while it was experimental, it had showed some success in Europe.

House barged into Cuddy's office hoping she'd gotten over the events of the previous night as was usually the case so that they could return to their usual adversarial relationship.

"What is it?" She asked, looking up from her work.

"Need you to sign off on a procedure."

She put her pen down and motioned for the file. He handed it over and she flipped quickly through it.

"Patient needs an experimental—" he said.

"No," she said firmly.

"Why not?"

She handed the file back to him. "It's too risky."

"We're a teaching hospital, we're supposed to take risks."

"She could die."

"She could have permanent brain damage if we don't," he said, raising his voice.

"You have my answer. Now go," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand and returned to her work.

"Wait...so my patient has to suffer because you're pissed off at me?"

"It has nothing to do with _you_, it has to do with the fact the risk to the patient outweigh the benefits. Find another way to treat."

"It's my job to take risks!" He argued. "There isn't another way to treat and _you_ are letting your personal feelings interfere with work."

"You asked me a question, I answered it, now you can go."

He moved toward her desk. "Dammit Cuddy, if you wouldn't have slammed the door in my face last night you'd understand why I wanted that drug."

She looked up at him as he towered over her desk. "House, I didn't want to have this discussion with you, not here. But since you brought it up, fine. I know why you wanted it, I understand the reasons, but after all these years I can't believe you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth and let me help you. You just led me on...led us all on...thinking the _worst_."

He scoffed. "You're making this a bigger deal than it is."

Cuddy's jaw dropped in surprise. She couldn't believe he would be so dismissive. "That's because it_ is_ a big deal House." Her voice grew louder but she continued. "You're just the only one who doesn't see that. I'm not surprised. You don't care who you hurt because it's always about you and to hell with how your actions affect others. You're a miserable son of a bitch who can't feel anything and time and time again you keep dragging down the few people who care about you."

House swallowed hard. Her words and her anger went through him like daggers but he refused to show it. "I went to your house last night to tell you the truth. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

She shook her head and said sadly, "Too little too late. And you know what? This isn't _just_ about the cancer thing, that's just the straw that broke the camel's back. This has been a long time coming. It's always something with you and you don't give a damn. You act like it's nothing and we're all just supposed to sit around waiting to bail you out or save your ass again. You make everyone around you miserable and I...I can't be a part of that."

House was confused. "Wait...so you're not pissed off about the cancer thing? This is...something _else_?"

Cuddy pushed her chair back and stood up, leaning forward over her desk, nearly face to face with him.

"It's..._everything_. You hurt everyone around you and you don't seem to care. It's no wonder nobody, including your own family doesn't want to have anything to do with you!" She yelled.

House just stood there, stunned at her response and the turn of events. He turned around and walked toward the door. He could see people watching and wondering what was going on. He was sure everyone heard the conversation. He put his hand on the knob then stopped and turned and limped a few steps toward her. He watched as she stood straight and tall, waiting for his barbs.

He pointed his cane at her. "You know, you're one to talk Cuddy. You bitch about me being miserable? What about _you_? You hide behind your job, can't keep a man around because they always find out early on the controlling anal-retentive perfectionist bitch you are and then you turn around and blame me when all I've done is saved you from those pathetic losers. You say you want me to talk to you? What about you? You don't talk to anyone. You have no friends, you never see your family, and you never take time off to do anything fun. _Your_ idea of a good time is sitting up all night working on _budget reports_. You don't let anyone in because _you're_ afraid. Other than your family, I've known you longer than anyone else and I know _all_ your secrets Cuddy. You want everyone to think you've got it together but underneath, you're just as fucked up as the rest of us."

"You're a son of a bitch," she sneered, her voice filled with venom.

"Yeah? Well you're just a bitch." He spat back.

She gripped the edge of her desk. "I was so stupid to think that one of these days you might want to change, to have something more out of life than your drugs and your whores and your misery. I'm done caring House, you're not worth it. Go...live your life. If you want to overdose on Vicodin, drink yourself into oblivion...I just don't care. It's your problem. From now on, this..." she motioned between them with her hands. "Is strictly business. You will be purely professional in my presence and you will address me as _Doctor_ Cuddy. You will come in on time and you will do your job. You will not come to my house, you will not call me at home, you will not contact me unless it's at work and directly related to your job. Do you understand?"

House didn't respond. Instead, they glared at each other, expecting the other to say something. Moments passed without a word then Cuddy turned her back on him, a sign that she was done. House turned and limped out of her office slamming the door behind him so hard it shattered the glass pane.

Cuddy jumped at the noise and then turned around and glared at the mess. The clinic outside her office had gone quiet watching and listening to the argument. She kept her cool while called maintenance and instructed them to replace the pane of glass and clean up the mess and charge it to House's budget. then she locked up her desk and exited her office and made her way through the clinic toward the elevators, her head held high and looking straight ahead. No one spoke as she maneuvered through the sea of disbelieving gawkers. She saw Wilson standing there at the nurse's station, his jaw dropped in shock. When he tried to approach her she waved him off, not wanting to talk to anyone. He gave up and rushed off, presumably to find House.

When she got into the elevator she pushed the button repeatedly for the top floor. Once there she took the half flight of stairs to the roof, opened the door and breathed in the cool crisp air. With the door firmly closed behind her, she walked over to the middle of the roof, clenched her hands, looked up at the gray sky and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Meanwhile, House returned to his office and tossed the file on the conference table. His fellows just stared at him as he wordlessly limped into his office. He threw his backpack on the desk and began loading his personal items into it. Sensing he was being watched, he turned around to see his three fellows at his door.

"What?" He asked, annoyed.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"But we haven't solved the case yet."

"Cuddy won't approve the procedure."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

"She's the boss, if she says no, it's no."

"So what do we do?"

He slammed his backpack on the desk. "Do what I trained you to do! Think for yourselves dammit! Do I need to look over your shoulder twenty-four-seven? You're doctors...go figure out a way to fix this girl. I'm outta here." And with that he loaded the last item into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and limped out.

"What the hell just happened?" Chase asked, shocked at House's behavior.

"I need to talk to Cuddy. We have to do this procedure," Foreman said, walking away.

Meanwhile, Wilson caught up with House in the parking garage. "House what the hell happened between you and Cuddy?" He asked, walking beside him.

"She's pissed off at me. What else is new?"

"But that...what just happened in her office. That was more."

"She's angry Wilson, apparently my faking cancer didn't sit well with her."

"Well you have to admit it was a pretty shitty thing to do."

"I'm always doing shitty things, why is this so different?"

Wilson was tempted to tell him what was going on with Cuddy but he'd promised her he wouldn't.

"House, you're not the only one with shit going on in your life, other people have problems too. She's just under a lot of stress right now."

"Yeah, well she's always bitching at me that I don't talk to anyone, maybe she should take her own advice."

"House-"

"You know what? I don't want to talk about this...or _her_." He put the key into the ignition and started the bike.

"Where are you going?"

"Right now? Anywhere that isn't here," he said before pulling out of his space and heading out of the garage.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Wow, thank you so much for all the reviews so far!

* * *

_Meanwhile, Wilson caught up with House in the parking garage. "House what the hell happened between you and Cuddy?" He asked, walking beside him._

_"She's pissed off at me. What else is new?"_

_"But that...what just happened in her office. That was more."_

_"She's angry Wilson, apparently my faking cancer didn't sit well with her."_

_"Well you have to admit it was a pretty shitty thing to do."_

_"I'm always doing shitty things, why is this so different?"_

_Wilson was tempted to tell him what was going on with Cuddy but he'd promised her he wouldn't._

_"House, you're not the only one with shit going on in your life, other people have problems too. She's just under a lot of stress right now."_

_"Yeah, well she's always bitching at me that I don't talk to anyone, maybe she should take her own advice."_

_"House-"_

_"You know what? I don't want to talk about this...or her." He put the key into the ignition and started the bike._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"Right now? Anywhere that isn't here," he said before pulling out of his space and heading out of the garage._

* * *

A month passed since House and Cuddy's argument and they'd had nothing to do with one another on a personal level.

House avoided Cuddy like the plague, approaching her only a few times and expressing no emotion in her presence. He did all his clinic hours and stayed in his office the rest of the time. He appointed Chase, as the senior fellow, to deal with her whenever possible and Cuddy did not seem to mind that at all.

Cuddy handled the aftermath with complete professionalism, carrying out her duties and acting as if nothing had changed though the reality was to the contrary. Unfortunately their feud had gone public and everyone in the clinic witnessed the fight. The incident spread like wildfire after House burst out of her office and slammed the door so hard the glass shattered into a million pieces. Cuddy had hoped the Board had not gotten wind as she feared they would question her ability to supervise House. With her contract renewal just around the corner, she did not need any problems.

To his credit, Wilson tried to smooth things over by getting them in the same room to talk to one another but they refused and eventually, he gave up. He was torn between his two friends and because he was tired of hearing them bitch about each other every time he was with one of them, he began spending more time away from them.

Cuddy made attempts to move on with her life and two weeks after the fight with House, she was spotted in the cafeteria with a man no one had ever seen. Wilson knew but said nothing to House and had warned the team to do the same. It didn't take long though for House to find out. Late one afternoon, he was standing at the first floor nurse's station helping himself to a lollipop and berating the nurses when he heard laughter emanating from Cuddy's office. He looked over and saw Cuddy exit her office with a man he'd never seen before. He helped her with her coat while whispering something that made her giggle and House cringed. Cuddy _never_ giggled, at least not since college. They walked past House and ignored him completely.

Shortly after that, House left work, telling his team not to call unless it was an emergency. He spent several hours at a bar getting so drunk he had to call a cab to take him home, after which he sat on his couch brooding over what he'd seen a few hours earlier. He'd decided he needed a distraction so he called a local escort service. When the hooker arrived he was too drunk and angry to get it up so he threw a hundred dollars at her and told her to get lost. She stormed out but not before kicking his cane out from under him and mocking him as a pathetic cripple. He slammed the door behind her and spent the rest of the night finishing off a bottle of scotch.

House was sitting in his office reviewing a case file when his office door opened. It was Wilson. House motioned for him to enter.

"Hey," Wilson said.

Two tired blue eyes peered at Wilson over his glasses. "So, what? You're talking to me now?"

Wilson took a seat across from House and noted his friend's bloodshot eyes. It looked as if he'd had too much to drink the previous night or hadn't slept. Wilson guessed it was a bit of both.

"Things have been tense around here so I just figured I'd lay low."

"I'm not mad at _you_."

"I know it's just..." He scratched his head. "Being around you guys is stressful."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"You wanna go bowling tonight?" Wilson asked, hopefully.

"No."

"Movie?"

"No."

"Poker?"

House took off his glasses. "Seriously? Is this an intervention?" He asked, clearly annoyed.

"No...just thought you could use some company."

"I'm _fine_."

"No you're not. I'm worried about you."

"I do better on my own, thank you." He reached down to rub his angry thigh which didn't go unnoticed by Wilson.

"You've been taking more Vicodin and drinking more and yet the pain is still there. What does that tell you House?"

"It is what it is." House was not in the mood for Wilson's lecture and suddenly needed some air. He backed his chair away from the desk, grabbed his cane and got up. He opened the door to the balcony and Wilson followed.

"I wish you'd talk about it," Wilson said, following him out. He didn't want to nag his friend but the last month had been hell on House and Wilson felt it was time he took steps to do something about it.

"Talk about _what_?"

"About..._everything._ You're in pain in more ways than one. You need help. Your leg...this thing with Cuddy-"

Suddenly, House lost his patience and turned quickly, stepping into Wilson's personal space, backing him up against the divider between the two balconies. "Everybody wants to talk!" He yelled. "About _what_? What do you want me to say? My daddy didn't love me enough? I'm a miserable bastard? I'm in pain all the goddamned time? I run off everyone who ever gave a damn about me? Fine! You got what you wanted! Haven't we been through this? As to Cuddy...there's nothing to talk about. She's done with me. Fuck it."

"You know she didn't mean that."

"Oh trust me, she did."

Wilson shook his head in frustration. "You can man up and show her she's wrong."

"Maybe she's not wrong," House replied quietly.

Wilson sighed. He knew House was hurt and he knew he wasn't punishing Cuddy half as much as he was punishing himself. "She is wrong and you know she cares about you."

"She doesn't need me Wilson. She's got a boy toy she can boss around who I'm sure will cater to her needs and do whatever she wants."

"His _name_ is Richard and he's not her boy toy. They went out a few times but that's it."

"Don't care."

"At least she's _trying_ to live her life House, you should be doing that too."

"Oh I'm living alright," he said before dry swallowing two Vicodin.

Wilson cringed and shook his head. "House, every time something happens, you go over the edge, take it to the extreme. It'd be nice if for once, when the shit hit the fan, you handled it...without hurting yourself or the people who care about you."

"I'm handling it just fine," he growled impatiently.

Wilson shrugged. At his wits end, he turned around and headed back inside. He held onto the door handle and then turned back and addressed House again.

"You're anything but fine, House." Then he turned around and walked out.

When Wilson left, House leaned forward on the balcony looking over the grounds. He wondered how everything got so fucked up. _If things had gone the way they were supposed to, my life wouldn't suck so much right now._ Now everything was worse and he didn't know how to fix it. Other than his mother there were only two people he truly cared about in the world. One had walked away and the other was on the verge of doing the same. House knew it was only a matter of time. In the end, the people he cared about always walked away.

He went back inside and sat down. He opened his desk drawer and pulled the bottle of Bourbon he kept tucked away but as quickly as he uncapped it, he changed his mind, capped it and set it on his desk, staring at it. He suddenly didn't feel like drinking. _Goddammit,_ he thought. Every time something went wrong in his life, he took it to the extreme. He hated when Wilson was right and he'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing it. But taking things to the extreme was who he was and and people don't change, of that he was sure.

The problem was that since the fight with Cuddy, his leg hurt worse and he _was_ taking more Vicodin and drinking more than usual and while it numbed him, it was only temporary. He wasn't fine and he knew if something didn't change, things would get much worse. He wondered if he'd be able to handle it when that happened because he was barely hanging on as it was.

* * *

It was nearing seven o'clock and Cuddy was running late when she turned into the driveway of the Warren family's modest colonial brick home in the cul-de-sac in a quiet suburb of Princeton. She had made this trip every single day since Emily had been moved into home hospice a month earlier.

She sat in her car for a moment in an attempt to gather herself together. While she loved visiting Emily, the visits had become more difficult. Emily had less energy lately and tired more frequently and yet each day she hung on, she clung to life, never a complaint about the pain or discomfort. Cuddy knew it only was a matter of time.

She gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath to ready herself. When she looked up she saw Joan Warren had already opened the door and stood there with warm smile. Cuddy did not know how Joan and her husband maintained such a positive attitude. They weren't in denial as they'd discussed Emily's diagnosis and care in great detail, but they were resolved that because there was nothing they could to do make her better, they would simply make her final days as happy as possible. Cuddy admired the strength and fortitude of the entire family. They were a close-knit family with a strong faith. She was thankful that they had been so kind as to let her visit the little girl every single day. In fact, they treated her as a member of the family.

Cuddy got out of the car and headed up the walkway.

"Lisa, I was worried with the bad weather we've been having. You're always here by six," Joan said as she embraced her tightly.

"I had a meeting that ran late and traffic was backed up because of the rain. How's Emily?" Cuddy asked as she followed Joan into the quiet house which was usually bustling with activity.

"She's napping," Joan replied. "She tried to stay awake till you got here."

"It's so quiet. Where is everyone?"

"They went to get Chinese." She turned to Cuddy. "Will you stay and eat with us?"

Cuddy would've liked to but she was beat. She hadn't slept more than a few hours each night over the past few weeks. "I wish I could but...it's been a long week and I'm going to head home for a hot bath and get to bed early."

Joan nodded in understanding then put her hand on Cuddy's arm. "You're looking so tired lately, you need to take care of yourself. I can't thank you enough for being here for us...for Emily."

"I should be thanking you for letting me in. I feel like I'm intruding."

Joan smiled warmly. "You're like family. Emily thinks the world of you and we're glad you're here." They made their way to the family room where Emily had been moved to make it easier for her to interact with her family. Before they entered. Joan took Cuddy's arm and whispered, "I should tell you this...Emily's been asking...about dying. She's such a perceptive little girl, she knows it's coming."

Cuddy swallowed hard. "What do you tell her?"

"I tell her..." Joan sighed and leaned against the doorjamb between the kitchen and family room. "I tell her it's like going to sleep. That it doesn't hurt."

"Does she have any questions."

"Sometimes. I do the best I can. I don't want to lie to her, especially because she knows it's going to happen. I just don't want her to be scared."

Cuddy rubbed her tired face. "You'd think being a doctor would've prepared me for this. It doesn't. It's hard enough talking to grown adults about death but...a child? It doesn't seem fair."

"It's not. She deserved a full and happy life. But then again...who are we to say how long that life is? It's out of our hands."

"I admire your faith," Cuddy said sincerely.

She smiled warmly. "My faith is my rock but Neal and the kids have been a huge part of my coping process. We're working through it together, as a family. I believe that Emily would've gotten sick whether she'd been with us or not but that she's with us and that we are able to give her love and make her final days happy...in some ways, it helps make it more bearable. She's brought our family great joy."

Cuddy looked over at the sleeping child who seemed so tiny in the huge hospital bed.

"I know," she said, quietly. The pain in her eyes did not go unnoticed by Joan. The older woman didn't want to pry but she sensed Lisa was enduring her own emotional turmoil.

"I'm going to leave you two alone," she said to Cuddy. "I know she'll be happy to see you."

When Joan went upstairs, Cuddy sat in the recliner next to Emily's bed and reached over to brush her hair out of her face. It was damp from the sweat of a low-grade fever. She was on oxygen and her breathing was somewhat labored. Out of habit, she took Emily's vitals.

Emily opened her eyes. "Hi," she said sleepily.

"How ya feelin' kiddo?" Cuddy asked, putting her hand to Emily's forehead.

"I'm real tired."

"I know."

"I missed you today"

"I missed you too."

"You look sad."

"I'm just tired."

"Mommy's sad too."

"That's because loves you."

"She says dyin's like goin' to sleep."

Cuddy tried to hold back her tears. "Yes, it is."

"Only I won't wake up."

Cuddy gently caressed Emily's arm trying not to think about it. The little girl was wise beyond her years.

"When I go to sleep it won't hurt no more?"

Cuddy shook her head. "It won't hurt. And there's no reason to be scared."

"I'm not." She shook her little head adamantly.

"That's because you're a brave little girl," Cuddy said, smiling through her tears.

"And I'm gonna go to heaven too." She said with certainty. "Cuz mommy says all children to to heaven."

"That's right." Cuddy willed herself not to cry, thinking about the fate of her own lost child.

"And Heaven is a good place?"

"The _best_."

"Do they have animals there?"

"Yep. Lots of animals you can pet and play with."

"And ponies?"

"_Especially _ponies."

"And bunnies too?" Emily asked, hopeful.

"Lots of bunnies hopping around making little bunny noises," she said.

"_Silly._ Bunnies don't make noises."

"Sure they do."

"Nuh uh," Emily said shaking her head and giggling.

"They make little bunny noises," Cuddy said. Her heart was lighter hearing Emily's giggles. Unfortunately the little girl was easily winded. She began wheezing and Cuddy sat on the bed and held her.

"Shh...just relax," Cuddy said, rubbing calming circles on Emily's back.

"Lisa?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Cuddy's eyes filled with tears as she hugged the little girl tighter. "You do?"

"Uh huh. You're pretty and you read to me and you're funny too."

"I think you're funny too," Cuddy said with a smile.

"Can you read me a story?" Emily asked.

"Sure, which one?"

"Goodnight Moon."

"Okay." Cuddy picked up the book from the table next to the bed and began reading. Fifteen minutes later, Emily was sound asleep. Her breathing was labored and raspy but she was resting. Cuddy didn't know how the little girl kept going but she did, she just didn't seem ready to let go yet. She leaned back in the recliner holding Emily's frail hand and then closed her eyes out of pure exhaustion.

She didn't know how long she was out when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

"Lisa?"

"Huh?" Her eyes opened wide and she looked around, a little disoriented. "What...time is it?"

Joan smiled at her. "It's almost nine. You fell asleep."

"Oh I'm so sorry."

"No, no, don't be. You're clearly exhausted. Are you sure you can drive home?"

"Thanks, I'm okay. I think this little catnap helped." Cuddy stretched as she rose from the chair. "I think I'll head out now."

Joan noticed the book. "I see you read to her again. We gave her that book the day the adoption became final. It's one of her favorites."

Cuddy looked at the sleeping child. "I love reading it to her."

The pain in Cuddy's eyes did not go unnoticed by Joan. "Lisa," she said hesitantly. "I don't meant to pry but...I feel that something has you deeply troubled. I just want to say that seeing you with Emily...well...I think you would be a good mother...if you ever chose that path in life."

Cuddy appreciated Joan's kindness but it hurt too much to discuss the subject so she simply replied, "Thank you," as she grabbed her purse and coat.

"We'll see you tomorrow right?" Joan asked.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Cuddy leaned down and kissed Emily on the head. She brought her lips close to her ear.

"Love you, kiddo."

She and Joan hugged once again before Cuddy walked out of the house and closed the door behind her. She looked up just as the clouds overhead parted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She needed to get it together for her drive home. She got into the car and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Y_ou can do this_, she thought to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, Cuddy pulled into her driveway. She turned off the ignition and ambled out of the car and into her house. She threw her purse and keys on the table by the door and made her way into the living room and collapsed on the couch.

She sat there in the dark as her emotions overpowered her. She felt a wave of anxiety settle over her and at the moment she felt hopeless and lost. When the tears flowed she was helpless to stop them.

Cuddy wished she could share her grief and sadness with someone...but not just _any_ someone. There was only one person who would have the effect on her that she needed, only one person who had the ability to calm her, convince her to think clearly and rationally, and make her feel strong when she felt weak. His absence from her life created a gaping hole...in her life and in her heart and at that moment, she would have given anything to hear the annoying thumping of his cane on her front door.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks for all the great comments. Someone asked if this fic would be as long as my last one. Noooo...that was 113 chapters and two years long! However...while I am not sure how many chapters this one will have, I can say with certainty it won't be too long. It'll reach a natural conclusion that feels right.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later, Cuddy pulled into her driveway. She turned off the ignition and ambled out of the car and into her house. She threw her purse and keys on the table by the door and made her way into the living room and collapsed on the couch._

_She sat there in the dark as her emotions overpowered her. She felt a wave of anxiety settle over her and at the moment she felt hopeless and lost. When the tears flowed she was helpless to stop them._

_Cuddy wished she could share her grief and sadness with someone...but not just any someone. There was only one person who would have the effect on her that she needed, only one person who had the ability to calm her, convince her to think clearly and rationally, and make her feel strong when she felt weak. His absence from her life created a gaping hole...in her life and in her heart and at that moment, she would have given anything to hear the annoying thumping of his cane on her front door._

* * *

House did not show up at work the next day and by afternoon when no one had heard from him, Wilson took it upon himself to go over to House's apartment to check on him. Upon arrival, he noticed the motorcycle was gone. He decided to knock anyway and when there was no answer, he returned to the hospital.

Wilson walked into Cuddy's office to see if she knew anything about House though he doubted it. To his knowledge they still refused to talk to one another. He opened her door and found her on the phone. She waved him in to the seat across the desk.

When she finished the call she looked up at him. "What's up?"

Her eyes seemed puffy, her makeup barely able to conceal it. "Have you talked to House?"

"No. Why?"

"He hasn't come in today. I went over to his place, he's not there."

She suddenly picked up a pile of papers and began shuffling them. "He probably stayed up too late getting drunk or high. I'm sure he'll be in eventually. If he hasn't properly documented leave, it'll be leave without pay."

"Now that's interesting," he said, with a knowing smile.

"What?"

"Every time I mention his name you try to busy yourself with something," he said nodding toward the papers in her hand, which she promptly dropped.

"Cuddy, how long are you two going to keep this up? It's been over a month," Wilson said.

"I told you it's just better that way."

He took a seat in front of her. "Is it _really?_ He's miserable. You're miserable. Nice try on the concealer, by the way. You two put on a good show but...it's pretty obvious you're both barely functioning. You're not yourself and you haven't been since this went down. Between that and Emily-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"House isn't the same either. He's in a lot more pain. He thinks more alcohol and more pills will fix it but...it never does. I know I swore I'd stay out of this but...I can't. I'm a meddler, fine, sue me okay? You guys have to talk this out. You care about each other, this is hurting both of you."

She started straightening things on her desk which did not go unnoticed by Wilson. "Wilson, how long do you think I can care about a man who doesn't care about me? Doesn't respect me? Hell, he doesn't even _like_ me."

"You're wrong. He cares about you, respects you and yes, he likes you, Cuddy. You know how he is-"

She slammed a file on the desk. "Yes! That's exactly the problem. I _know_ how he is."

"Cuddy—"

"Dammit, I thought he was going to die."

"I know. I'm still pissed at him for that. But you two...what you have is different. You aren't friends in the traditional sense but you have a relationship...I wouldn't even know how to define it. Hell I don't know if you guys can either but it's there. Everyone around you knows it. And if two people ever needed each other, it's you two."

She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her tired eyes. In her heart she knew he was right but her head was telling her something different.

"Wilson, I don't fault him for wanting to do something about his pain, God I want that as much as he does. It's just I'm tired of giving him a free pass because of it, I'm tired of him hurting me because he's in pain. We _all_ have pain, we _all_ hurt. I have known him half my life. When I thought I could lose him-" A tear fell from her eye and she wiped it away quickly.

"And yet you're without him now, granted, he's not dead but still...despite him being a miserable pain in the ass, you miss him."

She nodded her head sadly. "Yes."

He leaned forward and said softly, "Then _tell him_ how you feel."

"Why? So he can mock me?"

"If he knew how you really felt-"

She laughed. "He'd still mock me. Every time I felt like he might...be capable of standing up and..." She sighed. "He just never did. He was never that guy."

He chuckled. "No offense Cuddy, but when it comes to you, nobody's ever that guy."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, clearly annoyed.

"Really? You need me to explain. You have such high standards I wonder if anyone can meet them."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. You want this perfect guy...this perfect life...it just doesn't work like that."

"Please..._you_ of all people cannot possibly be giving me relationship advice."

"Nooo...I'm as screwed up as the next guy. I'm just telling you how I see things."

"So I have standards, so what?"

"What happened to Richard?"

Cuddy frowned and leaned back in her chair. "You're not letting this go are you?"

She watched as he nodded his head indicating that no he would not let it go.

"Fine! What _always_ happens. I screwed it up. I like things a certain way. He didn't like it. Thought I was too controlling, liked to be in charge." She laughed facetiously. "House was right. It never works out...with anyone. I used to blame him because he'd always interfere but he didn't this time and I screwed it up anyway. I'm either too controlling or too involved with my work or I don't give them enough attention or...whatever," she said throwing her hands in the air.

"I really am sorry. You deserve to be happy."

She laughed loudly. "Yeah, right. As House once said, I can't keep a man once they find out what I'm really like."

He leaned forward and put his hand over hers. "Lisa...there's nothing wrong with you. You are a beautiful, intelligent, caring and compassionate woman. You try to be perfect because that's...just how you are but the fact is...perfection doesn't exist. We're all screwed up in one way or another, we're only human. And frankly...Richard's loss is someone else's gain." He secretly wished that someone else was his friend.

She looked at him gratefully for attempting to make her feel better. "Thanks."

"And..." he hesitated not knowing how she'd take his next statement. "I think the reason you don't have much luck with men is because...and this is just my opinion...they can't give you what House can."

"That's absurd," she said rolling her eyes. Of course it was true but she could never admit it to him, hell she hardly admitted it to herself.

"Is it? He challenges you, he keeps you on your toes, he accepts you for who you are. Nobody can keep up with you the way he can. He's a lot of things Cuddy, a lot of misery and self-destruction but there's more to him than that, we both know it. You," he shook his finger at her. "Have known him a lot longer than I have. You _know_ what he was like when he wasn't in pain."

His response drew a momentary smirk from her. "The House I knew was...well he was always an ass but he liked to have fun. He was exciting...and adventurous. God, Wilson, I remember when he used to laugh."

Wilson caught the glint in her eye that appeared when she reminisced about the House she knew in college. She stopped smiling when she caught him gazing at her.

"Look," he said. "Next to House, you're my closest friend. I love you and I care about you. You need to talk to him, work through this. Someday it could be too late."

"I can't," she said adamantly. God she wanted to undo the mess they'd made but...something held her back. Fear. Fear of pain, fear of rejection.

"You can't or you don't want to?"

She put her face in her hands. "I...I want to...I just don't know how."

* * *

A few hours after Wilson left her office, Cuddy decided to see if House had shown up for work. She hadn't planned to go all the way to his office but when she got near and noticed the lights were off, she became curious. Approaching it she noticed it was empty so she unlocked the door and entered, looking around and noticing the conference room next door was empty and dark as well.

Without turning on the lights, she wandered over to the Eames chair in the dark, put her feet up and closed her eyes. She inhaled his scent and felt his presence all around her. For the first time in a while she felt a sense of peace. Oddly enough the person who she thought was least able to offer her that had done so without even being there.

Cuddy thought about what Wilson said. It was true that it was hard to define what she and House had, they had something different, something...uncommon. She'd missed him despite her claims that she didn't want him in her life anymore. He was the one constant and she knew that when everything else fell apart, she could at least count on him being there, in his own unusual way. And Wilson was right, House was the only one who could keep up with her, he challenged her to be the best she could be. She loved that about him. But he could also hurt her in ways no one else ever could. Another thing Wilson mentioned was certain and that was House had always accepted her. He'd called her on it and chastised her at times but he never tried to get her to change the core of who she was, who she'd always been. If anything, he'd tried to help her be better.

_God we are so screwed up_, she thought. They had said terrible things to each other and she still harbored some anger toward him but it had softened. She wanted to talk to him but she didn't even know where to begin. She didn't even know if it was possible to salvage anything they'd once had.

She sighed. _It's just too complicated. What if we go there and we get hurt again?_ She thought. She wasn't sure her heart could handle it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when House's office door opened. She looked up and saw Wilson standing there. Though the lights were off, the reflection from the open window revealed a somber and sad look upon his face. She knew instantly he had bad news.

She leaned forward. "House," she whispered out loud, her eyes wide. She thought Wilson had found House and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she waited for what he had to tell her, thinking the worst.

Wilson realized immediately she thought he'd come to tell her something had happened to House.

"No Cuddy...it's not House...it's..." he hesitated, running his hand through his hair. "It's...it's Emily Warren. Her mother just called me. She died about a half an hour ago."

Cuddy sat stunned. "I was going over there...in a few hours...to see her."

He walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay? You want me to drive you over?"

She shook her head. "No," she said. "Just...I'll go." She wanted to go but she was rooted to the spot by some unknown force.

"I'm sorry Lisa, I really am. She was such a sweet little girl," he said sadly, wiping his own tears away before he walked out.

Cuddy sat there in a daze. She leaned back and turned on her side in the Eames chair and buried her face in the headrest, taking in House's scent. She breathed it in hoping it would calm her and it did, just a little. She wasn't sure how long she lay in that chair but eventually she realized she had to see Emily. She shook herself out of the trance and left House's office quickly, stopping only long enough to grab her things from her office.

Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the Warren home. Joan met her at the door. "She's gone, Lisa. Emily's gone."

Cuddy swallowed hard. "I know. I'm so so sorry," she said as they embraced.

"Come say goodbye to her. She would've wanted that."

Cuddy followed her into the house. Neil Warren was talking to the hospice worker and the children were exiting the family room and hugged Cuddy as she entered. They'd all accepted her into their extended family. Cuddy and Joan walked over to the hospital bed in the family room where Emily lay, looking peaceful. With the machines off, the room was eerily quiet.

Joan brushed the bangs out of her daughter's eyes. "She laughed today. We talked about all her favorite things...the zoo, cotton candy, ponies."

Cuddy smiled. How Emily loved those ponies.

"Her body just gave out...it was time," Joan said.

"It's hard to believe she's gone." Cuddy said.

"It is," Joan replied. "I'm going to leave you alone...they'll be here in a bit to take her." Cuddy nodded and Joan slipped out.

Cuddy looked at Emily's peaceful angelic face which showed no signs of the struggle or pain she'd endured. She sat down in the chair next to the bed and took Emily's still warm hand in her own and wept quietly.

* * *

That night, House sat at his piano, a mug of coffee to his right, a pile of sheet music on his left. He played a few notes then stopped, wrote something down and continued playing. He'd been at it all day with the exception of the time he'd spent at an earlier appointment. After all, he didn't go to work so what else was there to do? The music was a distraction from the pain, the alcohol and the pills.

He'd thought a lot about Cuddy that day. He missed her bossing him around, chasing after him, making herself a thorn in his side. Of course he didn't just miss the work side of Cuddy, he missed the banter, the playfulness, he missed his friend. He and Cuddy had a very unusual relationship and he couldn't define it. He just knew he always felt better with her versus without her. He missed her daily presence in his life. They'd said some pretty nasty things to one another and he wasn't sure he could make things right. He wasn't sure it was even possible.

He recalled her words during their argument.

_"You hurt everyone around you and you don't seem to care. It's a wonder nobody, including your own family, doesn't want to have anything to do with you."_

It wasn't his intention to hurt people, he just didn't like them getting too close. He'd been hurt so deeply throughout his life that and the pain had embedded itself so deeply that he'd decided he had to protect himself so he closed himself off from relationships. In the process he caused a lot of hurt and projected his pain onto others. He did care what happened to other people, at least certain people-his mother, Stacy, Wilson, and of course Cuddy. He just couldn't let himself get too close. He couldn't allow himself to be hurt because he wasn't sure he could get over it again. What Cuddy had said about his family, was only partly true. His father didn't respect him but his mother loved him very much. They'd been close when he was growing up and his father was on maneuvers. In later years, he'd distanced himself from them and though she'd often tried to get him to visit or tried to visit him, he always came up with excuses. That was because he just couldn't be in the same room with his father...he couldn't stand being cut down and berated about his choices in life. He'd endured that living under his father's room and he refused to endure it as an adult living life on his own.

He thought about Cuddy again. She had been on his mind a lot lately. He'd known her for so long and hadn't been able to picture a time when she wouldn't be in his life in some way. They'd once been close, especially in college and he'd often wondered what might've come of that if he'd called her the day after an incredible night they spent together. He frowned when the reality set in. He would've still had the infarction, gotten addicted to painkillers and pushed Cuddy out of his life just as he did with Stacy. In the end, both of them would've been miserable.

Which is what they both were now. He knew he was and from his glimpses of Cuddy, she hadn't seemed the same either. She put on a good facade but he saw the lines and the dark circles under her eyes that she tried hard to mask with concealer. That's when it hit him that they really were better off without each other. He could only bring her misery and having her in his life but being afraid to get too close to her would've just made him even worse off.

_No_, he thought. _It's better this way_. At least he tried to convince himself of that.

His fingers touched the keys again and he played. During a pause to write something down, he heard it-a soft knock on the door. He ignored it and continued to play but then he heard it again only louder. He groaned and picked up his cane and limped over to the door. He looked through the peephole and saw Cuddy on the other side, her face blotchy, her eyes puffy and red. He took a deep breath before he opened the door.

"What?" He asked, feigning annoyance.

"Can we talk?" She asked. Cuddy hadn't intended to go to his apartment but after leaving the Warren house all she could do was drive around town in a fog. Somehow she'd wound up on his street. She took it as a sign, of what she didn't know.

"There's nothing to talk about." He tried to close the door but she blocked with her tiny body.

"House-" she said.

"You got what you wanted Cuddy." He leaned down and rubbed his thigh.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, the malice was gone from her voice.

"Don't worry about me. I'm always alright. The question is...why are you here?"

She shook her head. "None of this...is what I wanted."

"Too bad. It's done. And by the way I'm on vacation."

"What?" She asked, surprised. "You didn't give me notice."

"I emailed you this morning with my notice."

She hadn't checked her email all day. "How long?"

"Read your email. Goodnight, Cuddy." He gently closed the door in her face and locked it behind him. He leaned back against the door and heaved a heavy sigh. He knew from her blotchy face and puffy eyes that she had been crying and that bothered him. He'd always hated when Cuddy cried. She was such an unusually strong woman who could handle anything and it was one of the things he admired about her. But when things got to her to the point that she cried, it was a sign she'd reached her breaking point. He hated that he was the cause of it.

On the other side of the door, Cuddy stood, stunned. She felt lost with no direction. The one person she knew could set her on her feet again and help her make sense of things had turned his back on her. As she had done him. She placed her hand flat against the door and closed her eyes, as if willing him to open the door again.

He turned around and as if acting on its own, his hand moved up to unlock the door but something inside him stopped his actions. He stared at the door a moment then turned and limped back over to the piano and sat down. He laid his fingers on the keys, closed his eyes and poured out a soulful melody, one reflective of his disparaged mood. The music was his only friend...the only thing he knew he could count on when everything good was gone. While the music didn't numb his pain, it took his mind off the bottle of Vicodin on the mantle, strategically placed out of sight, but never out of mind.

Outside House's apartment, Cuddy stood underneath a tree looking in the window, watching as he played the piano. It was dark and there was no moon so she was sure he couldn't see her. His eyes were closed and his head swayed in time with the music. She knew the piano was his solace and his refuge. As she listened to the music and watched him move with it, she wished she was a part of it, that he could trust her enough to let her into that part of himself. But alas, it was House and he let no one in.

With one last look, she turned and got back into her car. She hadn't known why she showed up at his apartment, it just seemed right to be there. She really didn't want to go home to her empty house but she had no choice, there was nowhere else to go. With a sigh and a heavy heart, she put the key in the ignition, started the car and headed home.

House stopped playing and looked toward the window. It was too dark to see anything but he knew she'd been out there watching him. He knew it was Cuddy because he felt her presence any time she was around. He couldn't explain how he knew, he just knew. Though he would never admit it to anyone, her presence brought him comfort. She established boundaries for him and kept him grounded. In many ways, she was his compass, guiding him when he lost his way. She had always done that for him.

As he laid his fingers on the keys again, he tried to block her from his mind but in the end, he knew it was an impossible feat. Every single time he tried not to think of Lisa Cuddy, he only thought of her that much more.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** You know House and Cuddy, nothing's easy for them. Everything they want, they have to work hard for and this is no different. Thank for keeping up with the story, you guys are the best!

* * *

On Thursday, the day after Emily Warren's death, House and Wilson met for breakfast in a diner near the hospital. They were deep in conversation about hospital gossip when during the course of the conversation Wilson mentioned Cuddy's name and House suddenly went silent.

"Oh come on House, just _talk_ to her. She's miserable."

House looked up. "Her problem, not mine. And why are we discussing this _again_?"

"Because this is ridiculous and this isn't just anyone, it's _Cuddy_, you've known her for years. You had to know how your actions would affect her."

"I don't live my life based on how my actions will affect others," he stated adamantly.

Wilson scoffed. "Tell me about it."

"She wasn't even supposed to know about it, _nobody_ was. And nobody would've known if it hadn't been for my team sticking their noses into my personal business."

"True but we _do_ know and you have to deal with the ramifications. If you would've just come to us maybe we-"

"What? So you could tell me it's all in my head? No thanks, been there, done that," House snapped.

Wilson felt the sting in his friend's remark. "I'll admit, I was wrong."

"Gee, ya think?"

"I shouldn't have done that...dismissing your pain. I'm sorry."

For that, House stole a fry off his plate. "Fine, we're even."

Wilson did a double-take. "That's it?"

"Yep."

"So why the hell isn't it this easy with Cuddy?"

"Nothing's easy with Cuddy."

"Because you _care_."

House didn't reply, he just kept stealing fries off Wilson's plate.

"House, you need to talk to her."

"Why? So she can yell at me again, tell me how fucked up I am? How nobody likes me? Again, been there, done that."

"She was just angry. Trust me...she cares about you."

"She has a lousy way of showing it."

"And you're all sweetness and light? Seriously? You're not exactly known for your ability to _show it_ either."

"That's right, now can we move on? This is soooo boring!" House whined.

He threw his hands up on the air. "Why the hell do I even try?"

"My point exactly. You're insane. You know the definition of insanity right? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result."

"I could say the same about you and Cuddy. You've been doing this ridiculous dance for years. Over and over again as if you expect something to change but in the end it's the same old thing."

"Doesn't that tell you something?"

"That you're both idiots."

"Just give it up. We'll all be better off, trust me."

"I'm not giving up. I can't. My two best friends are a complete mess right now."

"Why do you want this so bad?"

Wilson laughed out loud. "Because...I've never seen two people so screwed up who were so perfect for each other. Damn House, how can you not have feelings for her? She's smart, strong, beautiful, funny, and best of all, she can stand you...at least she could up until recently."

"You forget she's also bitchy, annoying and an overachieving perfectionist."

"That's true but you love that about her."

House rubbed his face. "Goddammit you're a pain in the ass."

"And you love that about me too," he said, earning a look of disgust from House. "Look, just man up and tell her how you feel. Tell her that you care...because I know you do."

"Caring never gets you anything but hurt."

Wilson nodded. "Sometimes it does. But it doesn't have to hurt all the time, does it?"

"You know the world is better off with Cuddy and me not..._caring_ about each other, right?"

"I'm not so sure of that."

Ignoring Wilson, he said, "_I'm_ better off alone."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's clearly obvious how happy you are. An overabundance of _joy_ is the way I'd describe your life, House."

"_She's_ better off without me," House grumbled.

"She's not. She's going through a tough time right now."

"So talk to her. She's your friend too."

"It's not the same. I can't give her what you can."

"That's because all the ladies like the big cane," he joked.

"Will you be serious for a moment? Trust me when I say, it's not _me_ she needs."

"Cuddy will be fine, she's a survivor."

Wilson leaned back, tapping his fingers on the table and after a moment it was driving House crazy.

"What?" He asked, annoyed.

"There's something you don't know..." Wilson rubbed his hand over his face. "I told her I wouldn't say anything but..."

House raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Over the last few months I've been treating a four-year old girl named Emily for Neuroblastoma."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well...you know how Cuddy feels about kids, especially the ones in the cancer ward. She visits them all the time. Well, she became attached to Emily from day one. She'd been in foster care since she was a year old. Her mother was a single mom, emotional issues, it was just...a bad situation."

House cringed. If there was one thing he couldn't handle it was child abuse.

"A really nice couple fostered her, they had five kids of their own already but the whole family fell in love with her so they adopted her. She was part of their family for three years."

"You said _was," _House said, already assuming the worst.

"About six weeks ago, her parents took her to the ER. Side effects of the treatment which wasn't working. There was nothing we could do so they arranged home hospice. She died yesterday."

"Shit," House replied, a bit louder than he'd intended. That would explain Cuddy's reaction to him faking cancer. While he'd made light of it, the little girl Cuddy had grown so fond of had been dying from it. Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. He tossed an uneaten fry onto the plate.

"You okay?"

"Why didn't she tell me about this kid?"

"Oh come on House, do you have to ask? She knew what you'd say." Wilson didn't want to give away too much but it was the truth. House would've surely put Cuddy through the ringer over her attachment to Emily.

House looked down at his plate and suddenly felt like he wanted to throw up. He had mocked her incessantly about a lot of things over the years. He wasn't proud of that fact.

"How's she doing?" He asked, quietly.

"She's devastated." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "The child wasn't even hers and...well...she's just taking it as if she were. She puts on a good front but inside...it's killing her. The funeral is later today."

As Wilson talked, House's mind churned and Cuddy became the puzzle. He started thinking back over the past month. Even though he hadn't seen her much since their fight, when he had, she seemed different. Even though she was dressed impeccably and the picture of perfection as always, something was off. He recalled the few times they'd had contact, she'd looked slightly tired and when she showed up at his apartment blotchy-faced and teary-eyed he figured it was because of him. But as he thought more about it, it hadn't started then, it had begun earlier...before the fight. _She's not been herself for months now_...he thought.

Suddenly, it hit him. He wanted to kick himself for not seeing the signs sooner. They'd been there the whole time. For someone who prided himself in noticing the most minute details of everything and everyone around him, he completely missed the obvious._ What a fucking idiot_, he thought to himself. House broke from his trance and grabbed his cane. "Gotta go!" He shouted to a still-talking Wilson and a moment later he was gone.

Wilson sat there shaking his head and wondering, "What the hell was _that_ all about?"

* * *

Cuddy stood at the edge of the small group as they paid final tribute to the little girl who had touched the hearts of everyone there. The sky was overcast and a chilly breeze hovered over the open grave where Emily Warren had been laid to rest. The service wasn't large, mostly family and few close friends. Cuddy hadn't wanted to attend alone but Wilson could not be there with her as he had a surgery scheduled that day.

The minister said a few words and then Joan stood up and talked about her daughter. It was a very short but touching service. Emily had only been a part of the Warren family for three years but to them it felt like she'd been there a lifetime.

When the service was over, the Warrens invited the small group to their house to celebrate Emily's life. Cuddy wanted to attend but declined because she didn't think she could handle it. Joan, sensing that she was dealing with something far beyond just Emily's death, understood completely. The two women hugged, shared tears and then a few minutes later, all of the cars had departed the cemetery, leaving Cuddy alone.

She stood at the side of the grave which was covered in fresh dirt and flowers. The little girl who had brought a light to her life for the last few months was gone and she felt an incredible emptiness that she could not even put into words.

It began to drizzle and Cuddy looked up to the sky and closed her eyes and allowed the raindrops to soak her face. Then she looked back down to the grave and said out loud, "Emily, I don't know why you were brought into my life but I'm so glad you were. You gave me hope and I'm going to miss you so much..." Her voice drifted off.

The drizzle turned into a downpour but Cuddy didn't care, she just stood there soaked and shivering from the cold. At that moment, she mourned more than just Emily, she mourned everything good she had ever lost in her life. Her mind churned as she relived her losses and regrets and it brought even more seemingly endless tears.

Suddenly, Cuddy felt a presence behind her and a warm hand on her shoulder. She knew the touch, it was unlike any other, for it calmed and reassured her almost immediately. She turned slowly and looked up into the familiar blue eyes of the one person she had so wanted to share her grief with, the one person she'd spent years fighting with but whom she knew in her heart, at that moment, she needed more than anyone else.

House gave her a faint smile and without a word he embraced her and held her tightly to him as she cried her heart out in the pouring rain.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Best comment ever- "Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! **I NEED AN UPDATE TO LIVE! DON'T LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THAT! I'M BEGGING!** Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE! Update! UPDATE!"**  
**_

_Whoever you are "Guest" you made my day._

_Also, shout out to Revelo1630 who loves to give feedback on this fic!  
_

* * *

_She stood at the side of the grave which was covered in fresh dirt and flowers. The little girl who had brought a light to her life for the last few months was gone and she felt an incredible emptiness that she could not even put into words._

_It began to drizzle and Cuddy looked up to the sky and closed her eyes and allowed the raindrops to soak her face. Then she looked back down to the grave and said out loud, "Emily, I don't know why you were brought into my life but I'm so glad you were. You gave me hope and I'm going to miss you so much..." Her voice drifted off._

_The drizzle turned into a downpour but Cuddy didn't care, she just stood there soaked and shivering from the cold. At that moment, she mourned more than just Emily, she mourned everything good she had ever lost in her life. Her mind churned as she relived her losses and regrets and it brought even more seemingly endless tears._

_Suddenly, Cuddy felt a presence behind her and a warm hand on her shoulder. She knew the touch, it was unlike any other, for it calmed and reassured her almost immediately. She turned slowly and looked up into the familiar blue eyes of the one person she had so wanted to share her grief with, the one person she'd spent years fighting with but whom she knew in her heart, at that moment, she needed more than anyone else._

_House gave her a faint smile and without a word he embraced her and held her tightly to him as she cried her heart out in the pouring rain._

* * *

On Friday morning, Cuddy sat at her desk buried in piles of paperwork. She'd decided to take some time off and was clearing out as much as she could before she left. She rarely took even so much as a day off so it had surprised the Board when she'd announced it in an email to them Thursday afternoon after the funeral. It was last minute notice but they'd been supportive, knowing that she generally put the needs of the hospital before her own and hadn't had more than a few days off in years.

As she worked she thought about the events of the previous afternoon when House had surprised her by showing up at the cemetery.

_House and Cuddy sat in her car with the heat on. They were drenched and shivering from the dampness as the rain poured down in sheets. Neither of them had said much of anything since House had shown up at Emily's grave and consoled her.  
_

_"I'm sorry," she said, finally breaking the long silence.  
_

_"For what?" He asked, turning to her.  
_

_"I'm sorry for saying such awful things to you. I was just so angry."_

_"There's no reason to apologize for saying what you felt."_

_"I said some pretty mean things."_

_"All of it true."_

_"Not all of it," she said, turning to him.  
_

_House tapped his cane on the floorboard. It seemed to Cuddy that he had something on his mind._

_"I'm sorry too," he said, softly.  
_

_"Wow," she replied, shocked at his admission. _

_"What? Isn't that what you wanted?"_

_"No, I mean yes...but...you don't apologize."_

_"You want me to take it back?"_

_"No. I just don't want you to feel forced to do something you don't want to do."  
_

_He scoffed. "Since when have you known me to do anything I don't want to do?"_

_Cuddy nodded her agreement. She picked at an imaginary thread on her sweater. "I didn't mean all that stuff I said to you."_

_"Only some of it," he said with a smirk. _

_"Well...yeah," she acknowledged. "You were right though." She turned away to look out at the rain again.  
_

_"About?"_

_"I do hide behind my job, it's the only stable thing I have in my life. I'm controlling and a perfectionist and I don't visit my family much but it's because my mother and sister annoy the hell out of me."_

_"You forgot to mention you suck at relationships."_

_She rolled her eyes at him. "Gee, thanks."_

_"No problem. Listen, you think that's bad? What about me? I'm an addict and an asshole. I'm in pain all the time and lash out at everyone who tries to help me."_

_"You forget to mention you suck at relationships," she replied facetiously._

_"Touche." They smiled simultaneously. Cuddy felt the ice breaking. _

_"We're a fucked up pair aren't we?"  
_

_He nodded. "Yep."_

_"I lied to you," she said, softly. "When I told you I didn't care what happens to you. I lied. I do care."_

_"I know you do, but you shouldn't."_

_Suddenly, she banged her hands on the steering wheel in frustration. "Godammit I hate when you do that!"_

_"What?" He asked. Her outburst nearly made him jump.  
_

_"I tell you that I care and you insist you don't deserve it. Why do you do that?"_

_"Because I don't deserve it. I'm miserable. I make everyone around me worse, you said so yourself."_

_"That's a lie...at least the second half is...and you know it. I was just pissed at you."_

_He blinked._

_"You forget House, I know you better than anyone else," she said. "I know you...I knew you when you weren't miserable."  
_

_"Those days are long gone Cuddy." He closed his eyes and rubbed his thigh. She watched and shook her head, sadly. _

_"You can't keep up like this or it's going to kill you."_

_House didn't say a word. He opened his eyes and looked out the passenger window. _

_Cuddy wondered what he was thinking. She wished he would open up to her. Gently, she placed her right hand on his left thigh. He looked down at where her hand touched him._

_"I know that you are in pain every single day," she said. "This pain has taken over your life and I...hate that."_

_He looked at her. "You feel guilty."_

_"Yes. I feel helpless because...I can't fix it."_

_"Nobody asked you to." His voice was firm.  
_

_"I know but it doesn't mean I don't want to." She hoped he could tell she was sincere._

_He looked down into his lap and a moment passed before he replied, "So you really don't hate me?"_

_She laughed out loud. "Oh House, sometimes I don't like you but I could never hate you."_

_At that moment he looked up at her again and she saw it - a flash of hope in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a very long time. His face, which seemed tense earlier, had relaxed a bit. _

_"So how do we fix this?" He asked._

_She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, then turned to him. "I don't know...but this..." she motioned between them. "Is a start."_

Cuddy was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of the telephone on her desk. Without looking at the caller ID, she opted to let it go to voice mail, something she rarely did.

Her mind went back to her conversation with House. It had been short but meaningful. The few words spoken, the looks exchanged, her touching him and him not pulling away. It was _monumental_. In that very short time before the lull in the storm prompted him to leave her car for his own, so much had passed between them. It was a cathartic moment and one she hoped would give them an opportunity to repair the hurt and bridge the ever-widening gap between them.

At that moment, her office door opened. She looked up just as Wilson entered her office. She motioned him in.

"Hey. I just tried to call you. I got your message last night. What's up?"

She set the file she'd been holding down on the desk and motioned for him to have a seat.

"Looks like you've got a cleaning frenzy going on here," he noted, looking at the mess.

"Yep." She clasped her hands together on the desk in front of her.

"Uh oh, you look official, what's going on?" He asked suspiciously.

She took a deep breath. "I'm...taking some time off."

_"You?" _Wilson was genuinely shocked. Cuddy never took time off.

"Yep. And I need a _huge_ favor."

"Sure."

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I need to know if you will fill in for me while I'm gone."

"Me?"

"You won't be on your own, Melissa is a terrific assistant and I'll be available if you have questions or if there's an emergency but right now things are running pretty smooth. You'd just be holding down the fort."

"Surely there are departments heads more competent."

"There are department heads who have more experience but I need _you_." She pleaded. "You get along with everyone, you're extremely competent and I trust you."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "When do you need me to start and for how long?"

"Today's my last day and I took two weeks."

"Whoa! Two? What's going on?"

"It's just time. I need a break."

"I'm worried about you."

"I know. You're a good friend and you've been so supportive and I appreciate that."

Suddenly it dawned on him and he gave her a knowing look. "House came to see you didn't he?"

She nodded. "He did."

Wilson sat back and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. He'd worked hard to get them to talk and apparently it had paid off. He hadn't talked to House since he'd walked out of the restaurant in the middle of their conversation a day earlier. But now Wilson realized his abrupt exit had something to do with Cuddy. Wilson cared deeply for his two best friends and wanted them to work out their issues. Hell, he'd done everything he could to encourage it.

Cuddy had always been there for him when he needed her, he knew he had to do the same for her.

"I'll do it," he said, finally. "I'll be happy to."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Are you...okay?" He asked, concerned.

She leaned back in her chair and answered him as honestly as she could.

"Not yet...but I will be."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in posting. I try to schedule time to work on this and other things come up and then other times I have writer's block. Thank you Clinic Duty for taking a peek!

Remember...the definition of reciprocity is: the act of responding to a positive action with another positive action. To give and take mutually; and to return in kind.

You'll find House and Cuddy are finally learning to do that.

* * *

_She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I need to know if you will fill in for me while I'm gone."_

_"Me?"_

_"You won't be on your own, Melissa is a terrific assistant and I'll be available if you have questions or if there's an emergency but right now things are running pretty smooth. You'd just be holding down the fort."_

_"Surely there are department heads more competent."_

_"There are department heads that have more experience but I need you." She pleaded. "You get along with everyone, you're extremely competent and I trust you."_

_He looked at her thoughtfully. "How long?"_

_"Two weeks."_

_"Whoa! Two? What's going on?"_

_"It's just time. I need a break."_

_"I'm worried about you."_

_"I know. You're a good friend and you've been so supportive and I appreciate that."_

_Suddenly it dawned on him and he gave her a knowing look. "House came to see you didn't he?"_

_She nodded. "He did."_

_Wilson sat back and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. He'd worked hard to get them to talk and apparently it had paid off. He hadn't talked to House since he'd walked out of the restaurant in the middle of their conversation a day earlier. But now Wilson realized his abrupt exit had something to do with Cuddy. Wilson cared deeply for his two best friends and wanted them to work out their issues. Hell, he'd done everything he could to encourage it._

_Cuddy had always been there for him when he needed her; he knew he had to do the same for her._

_"I'll do it," he said, finally. "I'll be happy to."_

_She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."_

_"Are you...okay?" He asked, concerned._

_She leaned back in her chair and answered him as honestly as she could._

_"Not yet...but I will be."_

* * *

It was just after nine o'clock and Cuddy was lounging on the couch reading a book. She couldn't remember the last time she picked up a book to read purely for enjoyment and she had to admit it felt great.

She had just turned the page to a new chapter when she heard it, the telltale thumping of a cane on her door. As she leaned her head against the back of the couch with a loud sigh, she had to admit his appearance at that hour wasn't _completely_ unexpected. He'd been doing it for years, showing up at the oddest hours, under the guise of needing permission for some outrageous procedure. This time though, he was on vacation, so she knew it wasn't likely related to work, which made her a little nervous. _Perhaps he wants to talk,_ she thought. Since their conversation at the cemetery a day earlier, she hoped there would be more.

She laid the book on the couch next to her and got up to answer the door. Without even looking through the peephole, she opened it stepped aside to let him in.

"You open your door to just anyone? I could've been a mass murderer," he said as he limped past her.

"I like to live dangerously," she replied, facetiously. She closed the door behind him and followed him into the living room. "Why are you here?"

He turned to face her. "Relax, it's not like you have to go to work tomorrow."

"How'd you know?" She asked, hands on her hips.

He smirked. "Are you serious?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "_Wilson_. I should've guessed."

"That guy would make a lousy spy," he mused.

She smirked. "Well since you're here...want some coffee?"

"Sure."

She walked into the kitchen and he followed. He tilted his head and watched her hips sway with her movements. Her ass was delectable in those black yoga pants in her fitted tee-shirt left nothing to the imagination. This Cuddy reminded him of the one he knew in college. She looked adorable with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup and bare feet. In fact, even though he thought she was stunningly gorgeous when she was dressed and made up, secretly he liked plain and casual Cuddy better.

"So how long?" He asked, watching her pour water into the coffeemaker.

"Two weeks."

He smirked. "Copycat."

She let out a throaty laugh and then noticed how heavily he leaned on his cane. "Go," she waved him away. "I'll bring your coffee in when it's done." He nodded gratefully and left. Cuddy watched as he limped into the other room. Wilson had told her he'd been taking more Vicodin in the last month. Obviously he was in a great deal more pain than usual. She watched him and once again the wave of guilt washed over her. His pain didn't just create a looming gray cloud over his life, it created one over hers too. Every day she thought about it and how much it had robbed him of the man he once was. She hated it, and wished she had the power to take it from him.

As she waited for the coffee to brew, she wondered what they would talk about now that they were talking. Even though they'd both apologized, there was still so much to discuss. Talking had the potential of healing them or as was normally the case with them-it could blow up in their faces causing even more pain.

When the brewing completed she poured him a mug and returned to the living room where she found him on the couch, his shoes off and feet up on the coffee table. The fact that he'd removed his shoes surprised her.

He watched her as she took in his socked feet.

"What? I know how picky you are about your furniture."

She knew why he put his feet up so often, it alleviated the pain in his leg. She handed him his mug and then sat opposite him on the other end of the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. She watched as he took a few sips, placed the mug on the table next to him, then put his hands behind his head and relaxed against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed. Cuddy marveled at how comfortable he seemed in her home.

"So," he said. "You really taking two weeks?" He opened one eye and peered over at her curiously.

"Don't know. What about you? What's your team going to do without you?"

"They know how to get a hold of me if there's an emergency. Chase is in charge, he can handle it."

"I'm surprised you actually took time off."

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

"You're going to rack up clinic hours while you're gone," she mused.

He looked at her knowingly. "You think I'd take off _without_ covering that?"

Then she realized it. "You're making Cameron do them, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"House, she's a highly competent, respected physician, why do you hate her so much?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't _hate_ her."

"You should try telling _her_ that." She snorted.

"Seriously? And ruin my reputation?" He asked. He laid his hand over his heart and feigned insult.

She laughed again. "You're an ass."

He changed the subject quickly. "So...let's get back to _you_. You haven't taken a vacation in..." He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Since you became Dean. It's going to drive _you_ crazy not being there."

"Probably." She picked up her own mug of hot tea and sipped from it. "But Wilson's there so I think things will be okay."

"Until he sleeps with Mandy and she quits."

"_Melissa" _she stressed_. _"And she's a _newlywed_ so there won't be any messing around with Wilson."

"Oh like that'd stop him," he scoffed.

Cuddy hoped that wasn't true. Melissa was the first solid assistant she'd had in years. She didn't want to lose her. She decided to change the subject.

"House...is that why you're here? To talk about work?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Actually I'm here for purely professional reasons. I heard your ass had increased in size exponentially over the last few days and thought perhaps I'd do a thorough exam."

She rolled her eyes. "My ass and I are just fine thank you."

"So you say but if I could just get my hands-"

"House!" He was frustrating her. He'd clearly wanted something by going to her house but now he seemed to be backpedaling. "Why does it always have to be so hard for you and I to sit in the same room and have a conversation that doesn't involve you mocking me about my choice of clothing, my body parts or as you like to say-shitty doctoring skills? Why can't we just be normal?"

"There's no such thing as normal."

"House," she said, her voice had a pleading tone to it. "There has to be more...right?"

He sighed. "You know I'm not good at this."

She nodded. "And I am? I want us to talk; I want to find something more than the same old..._crap_."

He turned a little to her, and crossed his arms. "How about telling me how you got so attached to that little girl?"

She sat up straight. "I am _not_ a puzzle, House."

"Never said you were."

She wasn't in the mood talk about Emily, the wounds were still fresh. "Can we talk about something _else_?"

He shook his finger at her and laughed. "Nooo you don't get to do that. We either talk about everything or nothing at all. No in-between."

She rubbed her face. She wasn't sure she was ready to share that with him. Her feelings about Emily ran deep and it brought up things she couldn't discuss with him. She wanted to but she couldn't.

"So what's it gonna be?" He awaited her answer.

She pondered his words. If they were going to build...or rather rebuild...they had to start somewhere. There had to be trust. But if she had to open up, she was going to make damn sure he did too. This was _not_ a one-way street.

"Okay. I'm sure you know this but I met her at the hospital when Wilson started treating her. I don't know what happened...we just clicked. She has..." she corrected herself, "She had these eyes, and they were large and expressive. She was a good kid, smart and so full of life. She'd been through so much in her short life and yet she was so incredibly brave. Even toward the end, she was just...always asking about everyone else and so aware of what was going on around her and so aware of other people's emotions. I've never met a child like her." She exhaled deeply and prepared herself for his response.

His fingers drummed lightly on the arm of the couch. "You let yourself get attached too easily."

_Of course he'd say that_, she thought. "There's nothing wrong with letting yourself get close to another person, House."

"When you get too close, it hurts."

She bit her lip, trying not to show her annoyance. "Yes, it _does_ hurt but that's _life_. Knowing that little girl made _me_ a better person. Only you would consider that a bad thing."

"I didn't say it's a bad thing, but you're just putting yourself through more pain."

She tilted her head curiously wondering where he was headed.

"Why didn't you tell me about the miscarriage?" He asked, bluntly.

"What?" She had not expected that.

He looked at her.

She swallowed hard. "How did you even know about that?"

"Don't worry; your best _girlfriend_ didn't say anything, at least not directly. But something else he said indirectly got me thinking. The signs were there, I should've seen them."

"House, don't treat me like one of your patients," she warned.

"I'm not. It's just that you wanted a kid, I gave you the shots, and nothing came of it after that. I figured you just gave up."

"I did. After the third time-"

His jaw dropped and she realized he'd misunderstood.

"I miscarried once," she said. "The last time. The first two never took."

"You should've told me...

He had taken her by surprise once again and it took her a moment to respond. "I...there was a lot going on."

"You told Wilson."

"I didn't mean to...I mean something happened and I was upset...and he had just walked into my office and...it just came out. Besides House...let's face it...you don't do _those_ kinds of conversations well."

_Good ole Wilson_, he thought. At least she told somebody though he felt bad that while she'd trusted him with the injections, she hadn't been able to trust him enough to share her loss.

"When did it happen?"

She fidgeted with the fringe on her throw pillow. "Around Thanksgiving."

House squinted and looked toward the ceiling and did the math. It hadn't been that long ago. And then it hit him.

"Shit." He'd been detoxing and then Tritter was on his ass, his Vicodin stash confiscated and he was on limited doses, which weren't nearly enough to keep up with his pain. He remembered lashing out at everyone especially Cuddy. He was angry at her for not giving him more Vicodin and she'd taken over his case when the judge gave her guardianship of the patient. It was the little girl with...he wracked his brain..._erythropoietic protoporphyria_. One minute they were in surgery, the next, he found them on the floor of the shower, Cuddy desperately trying to cool the patient down...

_"It's a good thing you failed to become a mom, 'cause you suck at it!"_

Suddenly he felt closed in. He needed air. He pushed himself up awkwardly from the couch and limped toward the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" She jumped up and followed him.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

She ran past him and stood facing him, blocking his access to the door. "What? We're just talking!"

"I had no idea you'd miscarried when I said _that_ to you."

She realized he remembered what he'd said to her. She had never forgotten his words. "You were in pain."

"_Not_ an excuse!" He growled.

"I'm not making one. Just stating a fact. You really were in a lot of pain House. And so much was going on...with Tritter and-"

"Jesus Cuddy, just stop. Why in hell would you even want to be around me?" He bellowed.

With one hand on her hip, she ran her fingers of the other hand through her hair. What could she say? House was a lot of things to her, one moment he was her rock, dosing her with truth and keeping her afloat and the next he was vicious and cruel. He'd said things over the years had cut her to the bone. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her but yet he did. She always moved on but while time had dulled the ache, it was still there.

"And don't lie to me," he added sensing her hesitation. "If there's one thing I expect from you, it's the truth."

She stood firm. "Yes, what you said hurt me more than anything else you've ever said...and you've said a lot."

He scratched his head. "You should hate me."

She sighed. "I should. And yet, I _don't _so what does that tell you? I guess I'm as screwed up as you are. Look, I _was_ angry, you really hurt me. I've known you a long time and you never hit below the belt before...not like that."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know, House but at that moment it hit me harder than anything else you've ever said. The way you lash out...when you're in pain..." She instinctively put her hand over her heart to emphasize exactly where he'd hurt her. That movement did not go unnoticed by House.

"See..." He pointed at her with his cane. "This...is why you're better off not around me."

"That's not true!"

"I'm toxic. You've said so yourself."

"You don't do it because you want to hurt people!" He ignored her and tried to push past her but she blocked his path and put her hand out to stop him.

"Cuddy...don't," he warned.

"House!" Cuddy was frustrated and angry that he was on the verge of walking away again.

She took him by surprise when she got up close, in his personal space and stared at him defiantly. "You can't just walk away when we're finally talking! You came to me at that cemetery...when I needed you. You put yourself _out there_ by comforting me and apologizing to me. You and I both know you were way outside your comfort zone and yet you let your guard down _for me_. Dammit House, you made me believe there was a chance to fix this shit."

She noticed how his eyes searched hers, almost as if he needed reaffirmation.

In a low but firm voice, she said, "Don't do this again. Don't walk away from me _again_. I've gone through something..._life changing_...these past few months...and I don't have anyone to talk to. I mean...I have people I _could_ talk to but...I don't _want_ to. The only person I want to talk to about it...is _you_."

"Why me?"

"Because you know me better than anyone. Because you've seen me at my best and worst and you're still here. Because you're the only one who's ever been straight up with me."

"What about Wilson?"

She gave him a weak smile. "I love Wilson but he works too damn hard to try and say the right thing to make me feel better."

"Isn't that what you should want?"

"How long have you known me? Since when have I ever given you that impression?"

He rubbed his face. He wasn't prepared for her revelations.

"House," she said softly, her tone pleading. "We have a long history...in all that time you've never been afraid to tell me the truth. You can be brash and crude but you know how to get through to me. I don't need people feeling sorry for me or pitying me or telling me what they think I _want_ to hear. I need someone who will tell me what I _need_ to hear!"

House leaned forward, both hands resting on his cane. He looked down when he spoke. "Cuddy," he said his tone soft as well. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

Her husky laugh reverberated throughout the room. "Oh God House, that's where you're wrong. I have known you half my life. I know exactly what I'm getting myself into."

He looked up and their eyes locked.

"Will you tell me what happened?" He wasn't pushing her on the miscarriage to hurt her, he wanted to know. When she'd trusted him with the injections he felt like he'd obtained access to a new and private side of her he'd never seen. He liked being part of it, it was this secret held by just the two of them. He'd tease her while giving her the injections, they'd banter back and forth, they'd exchange knowing smiles in the hallway. It had changed them, at least he thought, for a short time, things had been different. He'd been a part of her journey until she'd cut him out of it. If he was going to be some part of her life again, he needed to know.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It hurt to talk about but she knew from the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, he really wanted to know, and not because he wanted to mock her or make her feel bad. She'd been so happy to share her secret with him and enjoyed the moments they shared when he gave her the injections. Oh he teased her, but it wasn't cruel or biting, it had a tinge of flirtation and she liked that. She'd seen a side of him she hadn't seen in years. And then she'd thought there might be the possibility. Now, he was asking her, he genuinely wanted to know. And she wanted him to know, she really did.

She nodded in response to his question. "So...you'll stay?" She asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"Okay." She blew a sigh of relief, glad to have moved past that. She really didn't want him walking out her door yet. She was lonely, she wanted company and not just any company, she wanted _his_. He had the power to make her feel whole again and at that moment she needed that more than anything.

House turned and let her walk past him back into the living room. They sat on the couch, but this time, they sat next to each other, not at opposite ends. It felt to both of them like something had changed in that hallway. The walls were down. How long, neither one knew.

She looked down and fidgeted with the fringes on the throw pillow in her lap as she talked. "Like I told you, the first two didn't take. I had the first procedure done in August and again in September. I thought I was pregnant after the second one but it was just wishful thinking and when the test came back negative I decided I'd try one more time. That was it. I was tired of getting my hopes up. So I went in and had the last one done in October."

"How far along were you?"

"Four weeks. I woke up one morning to terrible cramps...and then..." she drifted off, knowing she didn't need to finish the sentence.

"Shit," he said out loud. Four weeks. Another week and she would've heard a heartbeat. He felt an overwhelming sadness that she'd endured the entire experience alone.

Without thinking he asked, "Which donor did you choose?"

"None from the files I gave you." She hesitated a moment before she continued. "I...I just wasn't comfortable with any of them. I went through another set of files on my own a few days before the first procedure."

"Let me guess...valedictorian, bookworm, overachiever?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

She shook her head and nearly whispered, "Try tall, athletic, and smart and..." She paused. "He was a musician."

She spoke softly but he'd heard every word perfectly and he had _not_ expected that response and her revelation prompted his next question.

"That night you came to see me...why didn't you ask?" He remembered that night when she came to his office. He knew from the look on her face, the way she smiled, her posture that she wanted to ask him something and he knew what it was. And he was ready...almost ready to say yes.

"I was so close," she said putting her fingers together to illustrate. "This close and...I just couldn't. House, you and I both know it would've changed _everything_."

He watched as she struggled with her explanation. She suddenly got up from the couch and began pacing in front of him between the coffee table and fireplace.

"I'd thought about it early on but dismissed it...until I began thinking about what you'd said...that who you are matters...and that it should be someone I trust...someone I like. The thing is House, that's you. I wanted to ask you but I worried you'd say no and then I'd be humiliated. Then I worried you'd say yes but that it would push you farther away from me. You already keep yourself arm's length from me, from everyone. If you walked out of my life for good..."

"I wouldn't have made fun of you," he said. He chose not to address the last part, not yet.

She stopped pacing to look at him. "But what would you have said?"

"Cuddy...look at me...I'm a mess," he said, clearly deflecting.

Cuddy let out an exasperated sigh. "House, we're all a mess. We all have shit. You're a good person; you have so many good qualities. I have seen them and it just hurts me that you don't see them too."

He looked up at her. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. Without even thinking, he held his hand out to her. She hesitated but then walked over and took it in hers and he pulled her gently on the couch next to him. Her head rested on his shoulder. Despite the ongoing sexual tension always present between them, being with him like that felt comforting to her, it felt right. She snuggled into his chest, holding back her tears.

"I considered it."

Her jaw dropped. "What?" She knew what he was referring to but she needed to hear it again.

"I thought about being your donor."

Her eyes widened. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

His head fell back against the couch. "The same reasons you didn't ask me." It was true. He'd been afraid of rejection but worse the possibility that if she accepted, it would change everything and push her out of his life for good. He also feared a consequence of that-the likely possibility she would end up in a relationship with someone else who would wind up raising his child. And _that_ he could not handle.

"Fuck," she said.

"Yeah." His fingers drew calming circles on her back.

She'd spent so many sleepless nights thinking about him...and what it would be like to be with him again...and what a child of theirs might look like. She often dreamed of a dark-haired, blue-eyed child with her compassion and drive and his brains and wit and athletic ability. She had wanted it more than anything, but fear had reined her in. And all that time...he'd been thinking of it too.

And then she cried. And when she started, she couldn't stop.

"It's okay," he whispered. He really had ever been good at comforting anyone but something made him want to comfort her. He had brought so much pain to her life; all he wanted to do was be there for her when she needed him. He didn't want to hurt her anymore.

And so they sat on the couch, he with his arms wrapped around her and her grasping onto his tee shirt and crying into his chest. When her tears finally subsided, she was exhausted. Her emotions had been bottled up for so long and while it drained her, it felt good to release them, especially to House, the one person she'd wanted to share her pain with. Her head lay against his chest and she could hear the gentle thudding of his heart and it lulled her into a sense of peace she'd not felt for a long time.

She pulled away slightly and looked up at him, her face stained with dried tears. "Thank you," she said softly.

He smiled at her. "You're welcome."

Their eyes locked and it seemed an entire conversation passed between them without ever saying a word. Then she leaned against him again and he tightened his hold on her. Their embrace felt oddly _natural_ to both of them.

"House," she said, her fingers fidgeting with his tee shirt.

"Yeah?"

"I think you would make a good father."

Her utterance surprised him. He wasn't sure how to respond. He never saw himself as father material period. "You wanted my DNA but not the baggage that comes with it."

She'd known for years that he had a strained relationship with his father but never the details of it. "Tell me," she whispered.

"It's late..."

"You promised to talk to me."

"And I will."

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

Maybe was better than not at all. She'd work on him again. Something had inexplicably changed between them and she liked it. She wanted more. She hoped he did too.

House held her and lost himself in the feel of her. It was like nothing else he'd ever experienced and at that moment, he felt no pain. Holding her was something he thought would never happen again, not after their last time together in college when they had been young and vibrant and had their whole lives ahead of them. He'd pushed her away for years, believing it was best for her...and for him.

They sat on the couch, holding each other for a long time. They were both tired and it wasn't long before they both dozed off in their respective positions.

There weren't asleep long for Cuddy was jolted awake. She noticed House rubbing his right thigh. "Are you alright?"

"Hurts."

She pulled away from him but only slightly. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," he replied honestly. "Sitting too long."

"Do you need your pills?"

He shook his head no. "Took one before I came over."

"Oh," she replied. Then instinctively, she laid her hands on his and moved them from his thigh and replaced them with her own. She began massaging his thigh, gently pressing and kneading her fingers into the area hoping she was doing it right. She gathered that she was when she looked up at him and his head had lolled back against the couch and he looked a bit more relaxed. It was difficult to do it through his jeans but she kept on, wanting to relieve as much of his pain as possible.

House's pain had subsided with Cuddy's ministrations. She had taken him completely by surprise when she touched him but he had to admit it felt good. She was gentle and taking great care not to further irritate his injury. Her kneading was gentle but firm and he knew it would take its toll on her fingers and so after about fifteen minutes, he laid his hand over hers and stopped her movements. His eyes conveyed his gratitude.

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled at him.

He looked down at his watch. "It's late," he said. "I should go." He really didn't want to leave but he didn't want to overstay his welcome either. The truth was that he felt less lonely being there with her and he wasn't ready to end the night just yet.

"Why don't you sleep here?" She asked, as if she could read his mind.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Why Dr. Cuddy are you trying to seduce me?"

She smacked him lightly in the chest. "No, you ass, I'm offering you the _guest_ room. It's got a nice big comfy bed."

"I'd sleep better in _your_ bed."

"I'm sure," she said with a roll of her eyes. She stood up and stretched.

"Why don't you tell me why you really want me to stay and maybe I'll think about it."

"I told you, it's late-" she began.

He interrupted her. "You're _lying_."

She sighed. "Fine. I don't want to be alone. I feel better with you here."

"Okay," he said simply.

"That's it?"

"Yep." He put his hand out to her. "Help a cripple will ya?"

Cuddy shook her head at him then held out her hand, helping him up. He followed her down the hallway to the bedroom next to hers. She led him in and turned on a lamp.

"You know your way around here already so I don't need to tell you where everything is."

"Do we by chance get to share a bathroom?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Nooo. _Your_ bathroom is right there," she said pointing across the hall then she turned around to pull down the covers.

House watched her, amused at the great care she took in pulling the covers back, smoothing out the sheets and fluffing the pillows. He had to admit the bed looked incredibly comfortable but he wondered how much sleep he'd get laying there knowing she was just down the hall from him.

When Cuddy finished preparing the bed, she turned around and ran right into him. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. For a moment, they just stood there, their eyes locked. They both felt the tension. For a split second, House's tongue appeared to moisten his dry lips. Cuddy's eyes were drawn to his mouth and then back to his eyes, which seemed to be searching, looking right through her. They seemed entranced with one another for a few moments.

"Well, uh...guess I better turn in now," he said finally.

Cuddy finally broke out of her trance and said, "Yeah, me too."

Suddenly and unexpectedly, she reached up to House's face and cupped his cheek, running her thumb over his scruff. Then she raised herself on tip toes, she pulled his head down and planted a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. House closed his eyes to immerse himself in the feeling of her soft lips on his skin. It felt so good it set his heart racing.

Her hands moved down his arms and grasped his biceps gently. "Goodnight, House," she said and when he nodded to her, she turned and left the room.

"Night, Cuddy," he whispered as he watched her go.

House stood there for a moment listening as she padded down the hall to her room. He heard her door close and then water running. He sat down and removed his shoes and socks, then his jeans. He opted to sleep in his boxers and tee shirt.

As he sat there, he placed his hand on his cheek where she had kissed him and thought that he could still feel the warmth of her lips there. His heart was still fluttering from the contact. He silently chided himself for the feeling she'd left him with but he couldn't help it. There were feelings coursing through him that had been dormant for some time, mostly because he'd beat them down, believing things were best as they were. But as of late...he'd begun to rethink those feelings. Their fight had him revisiting his relationship with Cuddy and her importance and place in his life. He'd told himself for years it was better to keep her at arm's length but things were changing between them and while change scared the hell out of him, he couldn't help but think this was exactly the kind of change he needed. For once, he didn't feel the need to push her away.

House was not a man who believed in fate, he was a man of science, of fact and reason. But he couldn't shake the feeling that what was happening between he and Cuddy was in some part beyond their control. Above all else, it just felt _right. _And as much as he was used to picking apart and analyzing everything, he didn't want to analyze this, he just wanted to enjoy it, for as long as he could hold on to it. He recalled what he'd told Cuddy earlier, _when you get too close, it hurts._ He knew that was true, it had been the story of his life but the truth was that he hurt more without her than he did _with_ her. He hung his cane on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, a groan of relief emanating when he was able to stretch his leg out straight. He laid there in the dark, wide awake, hands clasped behind his head, listening to Cuddy moving around in her bedroom. He thought about her confession that the donor she'd chosen...tall...athletic...smart..._and_ a musician. God, he thought. _Why didn't I just do it?_ The thought of a child that was a mixture of the two of them put a dumb grin on his face and he couldn't help but think of the havoc a child of theirs would wreak upon the world.

Cuddy finished brushing her teeth and then changed into a tank top and shorts, turned out the light and crawled into bed. She rolled over on her side and reached a hand over to the empty side of her bed. As she ran a hand over the soft cotton sheets, she thought of House and how quickly things had changed between them. When she sat down earlier in the evening and opened her book, she never expected the night would end the way it did. She hadn't expected to reveal to him the circumstances surrounding her miscarriage, nor had she expected that he would admit he'd considered fathering her child. She hadn't planned to cry in his arms, as he held her...again. _Damn him_, she thought. _He wants everyone to think he doesn't care but he does. He cares...about me._ That thought made her smile, her heart flutter. Somehow, walls were breaking down between them and she wasn't even sure who or what was controlling it. She didn't care either. For once, she wasn't going to think it to death, she just wanted to enjoy it. For many years, she had hoped that someday he'd come around, that he would see she truly cared about him. She wondered if he knew just how deep her feelings for him went.

And at that moment, she heard the booming voice of the man who had, at that moment, been the focus of her thoughts.

"Hey woman!" He yelled. "Where are my pillow mints?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, House!" She yelled back. _Some things will never change._ Cuddy smiled to herself, then grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and wrapped her arms around it, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning House awoke and forgot where he was for a moment until the soft duvet cover and smell of sandalwood reminded him he was in Cuddy's spare bedroom. He laid there for a minute, not wanting to get up. Cuddy had been right, the bed was comfortable, so much he didn't want to leave it.

He raised his hand to his forehead and recalled a dream he'd had the previous night where Cuddy had pulled the covers over him then kissed him on the forehead. He thought about how nice it would be if it wasn't a dream.

His right arm brushed the bed next to him and he looked over at the empty space. How long it'd been since someone occupied the other side of a bed he slept in. Stacy had been the last one. The few hookers he'd indulged in generally serviced him on the couch, never the bedroom. To take them into his bedroom would mean something more intimate and that was something House would never allow. They were there to serve a purpose, provide him with a momentary distraction. There was no feeling, no intimacy.

He tossed the covers aside and groaned as he sat up. The pain in the morning was brutal. He rubbed his thigh vigorously, attempting to loosen the muscles. He got up and limped painfully across the hall to the bathroom and when he returned he inspected his surroundings. The room was immaculate and tastefully decorated in warm colors and furnishings and its vibe emanated Lisa Cuddy. It made him smile. Her office had the same feel, with its warm earth-toned colors and comfortable, welcoming atmosphere. He perused the contents of a bookshelf on one wall. It contained a few family photos and some books; a mixture of drama, biography, romance and medical texts from college. He smirked to himself and wondered how she ever found the time to read-especially the romance novels.

His eyes fell upon an old photo album and he pulled it from the shelf and sat on the bed flipping through it. He was only a few pages through it when he heard a voice behind him.

"Nosy much?" Cuddy asked from behind.

"Have you met me?"

She sat down next to him. "What are you doing?"

"Believe it or not, I was minding my own business when I tripped over this just laying open on the floor."

"Of course it was. Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a baby."

"I was right about the bed wasn't I?"

"It was like sleeping on a cloud," said with a grin.

"I know. Mine's the same and I liked it so much I bought a second one."

"Yours?" He perked up.

"Don't get any ideas about testing out my bed."

"Hmm...little late for that," he mused.

She glared at him. She wondered exactly what he'd done when he broke into her house to allegedly check it for toxins.

"I didn't _do_ anything. My leg hurt, I had to sit down."

She eyed him cautiously.

"Trust me. Now how does a guy get food around this joint?"

"Actually that's what I was coming to tell you. I made breakfast."

"You cooked?" He asked, surprised. "For me?"

"No, I cooked. For _us_."

"Yeah right? You never cook."

"I cook," she defended.

"As evidenced by the bag on your desk every morning which contains a bagel and cream cheese from your favorite diner around the corner. And the salad you order from the cafeteria daily and the dinner you-"

"Okay fine!" She sighed. "I cooked for _us_. Just my way of saying thanks."

"I could think of _other_ ways."

"I'm sure you could. However, eggs and pancakes will have to do."

"What? No bacon?"

"Shut up."

"You're mean."

She got up from the bed and headed for the door. "Put the album away and come eat before it gets cold."

"Yes _mom_!" He shouted after her.

He limped into the kitchen and found Cuddy with her back to him, taking something out of the oven. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her clad in shorts and a tee shirt, her hair in a ponytail. His cock twitched as he took in her toned legs and the tight ass he loved so much. That woman did things to him no one else had ever done. She was indeed an evil temptress.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned around. "Finally," she said, hands on her hips. "What took you so long?"

"I was snooping if you must know." He placed the album he carried under his arm on the table.

"And what is _that_?"

"I'm not finished looking through it."

She placed a glass of orange juice on the table then reached for the album but he gently smacked her hand. "Oh no. I want to see little Cuddy in all her glory."

"House, there's nothing interesting in that album."

"You in diapers is interesting."

She put her hand over her face.

"Oh stop," he said. "It'll be our secret."

"Fine, but I get to see pictures of you," she said turning back to the stove. "Naked. On a wool blanket."

"There are no such pictures of me."

"Yes there are."

He eyed her. "What do you know?"

"Nothing. Yet. But I could easily call your mother."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" She teased. She walked toward the table, a plate of pancakes in her hand.

"Just shut up and serve me woman." He held his empty plate and motioned for her to fill it.

Cuddy set it down in front of him. "It's 2007, serve yourself."

He did and she snickered as he dove in. "You'd think you never ate before," she said shaking her head.

"I don't often have a home-cooked meal."

"Wilson?"

"He's not home cooked and I wouldn't eat him if he were," he snarked.

"You know what I mean."

"He cooked when he stayed with me. Now, not so much."

"Except when you steal his food." She mused.

She turned back to the stove. She was in the same boat. She wasn't that great of a cook but then she'd really never had the chance to practice considering she was always alone. It was a nice change to cook breakfast for herself and...someone else, even if it was House.

She stirred the scrambled eggs around in the pan and wondered if House knew she'd snuck into his room last night. She woke up once to go to the bathroom and decided to check on him. She found him passed out in the middle of the bed, the covers strewn aside. Careful not to wake him, she arranged the covers and laid them over him. She stood there watching him sleep; he looked so relaxed and peaceful. And then something overtook her and she leaned down and pushed the hair off his forehead and kissed it. He hadn't even stirred. Cuddy smiled to herself at the memory then grabbed the plate of eggs and sat down at the table with him.

They ate in relative silence until House reached into his pocked to grab the bottle of pills. Instead of shaking the bottle annoyingly as he usually did, he opened it, poured out two, then placed the cap on and put it back in his pocket. And instead of dry swallowing them as was his usual method, he downed them with orange juice. He looked up at Cuddy who pretended not to notice.

"It bothers you doesn't it," he asked.

"It doesn't matter what I think. You're in pain," she said without looking up.

He contemplated that as he finished eating. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair.

"So...there's a blues festival over in Perth Amboy today."

"Blues?"

"Yeah...you know...Bobby Bland, Billy Boy Arnold, Bettye Lavette, Nikki Hill, Charlie Musselwhite?"

She blinked.

"It's too bad. You'd have a good time."

She squinted at him. "Wait...are you saying you want me to go with you?"

"Maybe."

_Again with the games,_ she thought. _Why can't he just come out and say what he wants?_

As if he read her mind he asked, "You want to go?"

Her heart skipped a beat. He'd really asked her. "I'd love to."

"Good," he said through a final mouthful of food. He hadn't expected her to accept his offer but he was glad she did. He pushed the dishes aside and pulled the album closer to him.

"Hey," he said, getting her attention. "Did you know there's a picture of your mother in here in front of a mirror? There's no reflection," he mused.

"Nice." She said, shaking her head while reaching for her coffee.

"Oh my God!"

Cuddy looked over at him.

"Look at tons of fun," he said laughing.

Cuddy scooted her chair next to him and looked at the picture of her as a chubby baby. She smacked his shoulder.

"Don't make fun of me!"

"Good thing for you it all eventually went to your ass."

"Oh shut up," she said. She was far from upset, actually laughing along with him as he continued to turn the pages. She gave him detailed descriptions of the occasions of the photos, when they were taken and by whom.

"Look at you; you were such a geek in junior high."

"I was not."

"You were. Look at those braces."

She peered over at the picture. "Oh God I hated those things. People used to ask me if I could pick up radio stations with my mouth."

He turned another page. "Well," he said. "Now this is an improvement." It was a picture of Cuddy at a pep rally wearing shorts and a crop top and her face was painted.

She put her hand over her face. "I was in the drama club and our group got together and did a skit at the homecoming game."

"Definitely hot." He continued to flip through pages, the occasional smile crossed his face when he saw certain photos of her. Cuddy watched him intently, her chin resting on her hand. She found herself smiling at the way he looked at her photos. Finally he closed the album and set it aside. He looked thoughtfully at her.

"I've come to a conclusion."

His statement piqued her curiosity.

"_You_ are definitely the hotter sister."

"What? There's nothing wrong with Julia."

"I didn't say there was. I just said you are definitely _hotter_."

She felt her cheeks flushed. But if House noticed he didn't say anything.

"Thanks."

"I've come to another conclusion."

"You look like you were having fun in those pictures," he said.

"I'm sure I was."

"What happened to _that_ Cuddy? And the one I knew in college?"

"She grew up."

"Growing up doesn't mean you stop having fun."

She shrugged. "Things change."

"They do. But in this case, _you_ changed too."

"Wait. Isn't your mantra people don't change?"

"We're not talking about me, we're talking about you."

"House, do you think that the people who hired me here would've taken _partypants_ seriously?" She looked up at him and noticed the grin at the use of his college nickname for her. "This job requires me to be serious...responsible."

He scoffed.

"Only you would think that being responsible is a bad thing."

"I get serious and responsible. Just not _all the time_. You need to let loose a little."

She scoffed at him. "Wait! What about you? When's the last time you actually let loose?"

"Again, not talking about _me_," he said.

She glared at him defiantly.

"Fine. You can't exactly have _fun_ with this," he jutted his leg out and pointed at his thigh.

"Come on House-"

His tone turned serious. "Kinda hard to do let loose when you're in pain all the time."

"Of course I know it hurts. But-"

"But what Cuddy?" He demanded. "When I wake up it hurts, when I go to work it hurts, when I go to bed it hurts. It hurts everywhere in between. The Vicodin takes the edge off but it always _hurts_."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault." It was true. He didn't blame her.

She shrugged. "I hate that the pain has taken over your entire life."

"It is what it is."

"House..." she started. She waited for him to look up at her. When he did, she continued. "Would you be open to trying something different? Something other than the pills?"

"There is nothing."

"You were going to do that implant."

"_Were_ being the optimal word."

"What if-"

"Why are we talking about my pain? It's not important."

"_Of course_ it's important," she stressed. She knew if they were going to be honest with one another, talking about his pain was part of that.

He looked down and scratched his head. "Talking about it doesn't change anything."

"There are all kinds of new therapies."

Her use of the word we intrigued him. "Why is this so important to you?"

She laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand. It was warm, reassuring, unusual for him.

"I'm worried about you. We both know what long-term Vicodin use will do. You haven't been on it long enough to cause permanent damage but another five or ten years and if you keep increasing the dosage like you're doing now, it will damage your organs," she said.

When he didn't respond she said his name softly, coaxing him to look at her. "House, listen to me. I hate that you're so miserable. I hate that you're in pain. I remember when you weren't. You were this...this guy who loved to have fun. You were...outgoing and crazy. Now, your pain defines you, it dictates your entire life."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked somberly.

"The House I knew all those years ago never would've given up."

"That House is long gone."

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "No, he's _not_. I know he's in there somewhere."

* * *

House limped through the door of his apartment, threw his keys on the table by the door and tossed his jacket on the couch. He only had a few hours to spare before he returned to Cuddy's house to pick her up for the festival. He limped down the hall, stripped down and ran water for a bath. While he waited for the tub to fill, he took a look at himself in the mirror.

_I know he's in there somewhere._

Her words had struck him to his core but he hadn't engaged her further, instead he deflected by telling her that if they were going to get to the festival on time, he had to get home and clean up. As if she'd sensed his need to process, she'd just smiled and let him go.

He wanted to believe her, that the old House was in there somewhere but looking in the mirror reminded him just how much the years had taken a toll on him. It wasn't just the physical pain, it was the emotional pain too. He carried a lot of baggage and as he looked in the mirror, he took note of the tired eyes, the lines on his face and his thinning hair with touches of gray_._ _Nope,_ he thought. _The years have not been kind. _

When the tub was finally full, he turned it off and stepped in carefully. He groaned at the intensity of the heat which emanated from it but it felt good on his leg and his entire body. He turned off his thoughts as best he could while he lost himself in the hot water and intense quiet surrounding him. His body relaxed as he napped in the tub. He'd been in it about forty minutes and refilled it once when he heard knocking on his front door.

His eyes shot open. "What the fuck?" He groaned. He tried to ignore it but it continued and then he heard Wilson's voice calling him. He eased himself out of the tub, pulled the drain plug, threw on his robe and limped down the hallway toward the door.

"You interrupted my bath," he said as he opened the door, stepping aside to let Wilson in.

"Hello to you too," Wilson said.

House closed the door behind him and made his way to the bedroom.

Wilson directed his voice down the hall. "I tried calling you last night to see if you wanted to go grab a few beers."

"I was out!" House yelled back to him.

"You?"

House stuck his head out from the bedroom. "Hey, I can go out if I want to."

"Have you talked to Cuddy? I tried calling her last night but she didn't pick up either."

"Actually..." he began as he limped down the hallway in jeans and a tee shirt, with shoes and socks in hand. "She was with me."

"You?"

"Well it was more like _I_ was with _her_."

"Wow." Wilson scratched his head in disbelief.

House knew the gears were grinding. "Don't start reading into this. It's just two friends...hanging out."

Wilson snickered.

"What?"

"Well...just the idea of you and Cuddy _hanging out_ together."

House sat on the couch to put his shoes and socks on. "See, _this_ is why I wasn't going to say anything," he said.

"Oh stop House. Listen, you have to admit it does seem a little strange."

"Wait...I thought this is what you wanted...us talking, getting along."

"Well, yeah. So is that it? Just _talking_?" Wilson seemed amused.

House decided to just give it to him straight. "Look, you know I went to the cemetery to see her and then I went over to her house last night to check up on her. We talked for a while. It was late so she invited me to spend the night in her guest room. We had breakfast together this morning, that was it."

Wilson's jaw dropped at hearing House had spent the night. "Wow!" He said. "I've been at Cuddy's house late before and she's never asked _me_ to spend the night."

House knew that look. "Nothing _happened_ you idiot."

"This is huge, House. You're doing more than talking here. I mean...you're eating meals together too."

He sighed. "Okay," he motioned with his hands. "Give me the lecture, I'm waiting."

"No lecture."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He finished putting his shoes on. "Wait, so why are you here?"

"To ask if you want to go bowling tonight."

"Can't. I've got plans."

"Again?" Wilson asked, surprised. Then it hit him. "Cuddy?"

"Yeah, I'm taking her to a Blues festival today, probably won't get back till late."

"Good for you, House."

"Seriously? No lecture?"

"Nope. Like you said, I wanted you guys to talk or...do whatever it is you're doing," he said as he motioned wildly with his hands.

House eyed him curiously. It wasn't like Wilson not to meddle or lecture him. But for now he decided just to let it go.

"So what are you going to do tonight?" House asked.

"I guess I'll stay home and have a beer, watch a movie."

"Sounds exciting."

"Actually, there's a new nurse in Peds, she's been giving me the eye. Maybe she likes to bowl," he said waggling his eyebrows. He got up and headed for the door.

House smirked. The new nurse was hot and extremely well-endowed. "Yeah, _bowling_," he mused. He opened the door and Wilson stepped into the hallway. After hesitating a moment, he turned around.

"I'm happy for you House."

House rolled his eyes.

"Seriously. I care about you two and I'm glad you're finally doing this...talking...getting along. With your history, it's about damn time. Whatever _this_ is...I hope it works out. You deserve it."

House nodded. "Yeah."

Wilson gave a faint smile then turned and left. House closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He thought about Wilson's words.

_Whatever this is..._

House had no idea what it was but for the first time in a very long time, he wanted to find out.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Shout out to everyone reading this. Thank you Clinic Duty & Cherokee Jedi for the sneak peeks; Revelo1630, surviva_chick, partypantscuddy and tracyhepburnfan who encouraged me early on in this story; and clinic duty, allthingsdecent, drdiagnostic, mystrygab, rochellerene and all the rest who keep writing these fics and keeping the awesomeness that is House & Cuddy alive and well long after the show is complete.

My goal here is to have these two reach out to one another in a believable way, that allows them to change and grow while still keeping them in character.

* * *

_"I'm happy for you House."_

_House rolled his eyes._

_"Seriously. I care about you two and I'm glad you're finally doing this...talking...getting along. With your history, it's about damn time. Whatever this is...I hope it works out. You deserve it."_

_House nodded. "Yeah."_

_Wilson gave a faint smile then turned and left. House closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He thought about Wilson's words._

_Whatever this is..._

_House had no idea what it was but for the first time in a very long time, he wanted to find out._

* * *

Around one o'clock, House was knocking on Cuddy's front door. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when she answered it wearing jeans rolled at the cuffs topped with a red short-sleeved form-fitting tee-shirt. She wore a pair of white converse. His eyes ran appreciatively over her curvy form.

She snapped her fingers. "Up here, House," she said with a grin.

He looked up suddenly. "Oh, hi there," he replied.

"You ready?" She asked. When he nodded, she locked the door, stuffed her keys in her pocket and followed him down the walkway.

"Umm...House, where's your car?"

"At my apartment."

Then she spotted his bike.

"Oh no...no we are not riding on that _death trap._"

"Death trap? I'll have you know-"

"No," she interrupted. "I am not riding on that _thing_."

"Then I guess we're not going."

"What?"

He turned to her. "Do you trust me?

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing. You either trust me or you don't."

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, she just didn't trust the other guy.

"You've been on one of these before," he said.

"Yes, but that was a long time ago."

"Come on, I promise you'll be fine."

She stood there, hands on her hips, biting her bottom lip. She really didn't want to but she knew House would not put them in any danger. And she really wanted to go with him.

"Okay," she relented.

"Yes!" He said, pumping his fist in the air. He grabbed a shiny black helmet that was strapped to the back of the bike and offered it to her.

"For me?" She asked.

"Yep," he said as he motioned for her to move near him. He helped her put it on after she tucked her hair underneath it, he secured the strap under her chin. They were so close Cuddy could feel his warm breath on her face. Her eyes never left his the entire time.

"You look hot," he said when he was finished. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and she immediately missed his presence.

"Umm...thanks?" She replied sheepishly.

He grabbed his blue backpack from the bike. "Here, put this on."

"What this?"

"Essentials."

He helped her put it on then turned her around to face him.

"Biker babe in the making."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'll get on first, then you. You know how to do it. Your feet go on those second set of pedals back there. Be careful not to touch the pipe."

He got on the bike first and she followed, doing as he instructed. When he felt her on the bike, he cranked it up and lowered his face shield, reminding her to do the same. She promptly lowered hers and rested her hands on his waist. He grinned. She definitely needed a few reminders. He reached down and grabbed her hands and pulled her arms around his waist tightly. She smiled and leaned into him as he took off.

Because Cuddy hadn't been on a bike in years, House wanted her to enjoy the experience and so he decided to take the back roads through the more rural areas. He knew it would keep them on the bike longer than he'd originally planned, but it would be worth it.

They traveled through Lake Carnegie passing the Princeton rowing team along the way. He took them up scenic Old Stage Road towards Jamesburg Park, through Old Bridge Township and finally on Old Route 35. They passed quaint neighborhoods, small towns, and farms along the way and an hour and a half later, they arrived at Bayview Park in Perth Amboy.

Throughout the trip, Cuddy had forgotten all about her fear of the bike and immersed herself in the feel of her surroundings. It was so different from riding in a car, it was like she was a part of everything around her. It was exciting and fun. It was a feeling of freedom she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Cuddy got off the bike, took off her helmet and shook out her hair. She looked around and noted the breathtaking view.

"House, this is gorgeous."

He took off his helmet and surveyed their surroundings. She was right. The park which was green and dotted with trees and flower gardens, was on the water, which was calm and deep blue. A few sailboats were out in the harbor. In the middle of the park was a large, white gazebo and people were milling about, sitting on blankets, throwing frisbees or playing with their children and pets. The sound of the blues was everywhere. House didn't really like crowds, but to hear the music he loved so much was worth it.

They found a semi-secluded spot near a tree, close enough to hear the music and see the bands but far enough away to avoid the larger crowd. House motioned for her to turn around then took the backpack from her. He opened it and removed at thin blanket which he spread on the ground.

"Is that a _hospital_ blanket?"

"Umm...no," he said

"So that PPTH logo...?"

"I can't even imagine how it got there."

"Mmm hmm," she said.

"Sit," he instructed as he eased himself down. He leaned up against the tree, his right leg out in front of him. He rubbed it a little. It didn't hurt much, it was just sore from the long ride.

Cuddy slid down beside him. "What else is in there?" She asked, pointing to the backpack.

He pulled out the two large bottles of water and handed one to her.

"Thank you."

"You hungry?"

"You packed us food too?"

House dipped into the backpack again and pulled out two large foil-wrapped packages. He opened them and handed one of the wrapped packages to her.

"Veggie hoagie," he said. "There's another one in there for later."

She was touched by his actions. It was one thing for him to invite her, but he'd even bought her a helmet and even made lunch for them.

As they ate, they sat on the blanket listening to the music. Every now and she'd ask him questions about what they were listening to and he'd answer. He'd also offer up trivia about the music and the songwriters and original performers. She always knew House was well-versed in music, but she'd had no idea the depth of his knowledge in the blues. When he talked about music, his face relaxed and he seemed content even...dare she say..._happy._

During a break between bands, she asked, "How do you find out about this place?"

"Well, contrary to popular belief I don't spend all my time sitting at home watching porn, screwing hookers and overdosing on Vicodin."

She looked down. "That's not what I meant."

He sighed. He didn't want to ruin the mood. "I know. I'm sorry. Actually, I got a flyer in the mail from a guy I know."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I do actually know a guy...other than Wilson."

She smirked. "Of course you do."

"I met him and his band in a bar in Princeton last year. They let me warm up with them a bit."

"Are they good?"

"Oh yeah, some of the best blues I've ever heard," he replied. Just then the music started up again attracting their undivided attention.

As they listened to the sounds of what she learned later were Muddy Waters, Junior Wells and Little Walter Jacobs, Cuddy looked over at House. It seemed that watching him had become her favorite pastime recently. As he listened to the music, he closed his eyes and swayed a little with it. His right hand, which rested on his thigh, tapped out notes in time to the piano.

House sensed he was being watched and he opened one eye and caught her looking. She tried to look away but it wasn't fast enough.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm just not used to you being so...relaxed."

"It's the music," he said then he closed his eyes again and listened.

"Oh." She'd hoped the company would've been a part of that but she wasn't going to complain, she was just enjoying spending time with him in a way they hadn't done since their college days.

As if he sensed what she was thinking, House said, without even opening his eyes, "The company helps too."

Cuddy's heart skipped a beat. _That jerk,_ she thought. _How does he do that?  
_

About a half hour later there was another break.

"House, where are the restrooms?"

He pointed to a stark white building about thirty feet away.

"I'll be right back," she said.

He leaned on his cane and watched her walk away. She was graceful, stylish, even in her jeans and tee-shirt. He wondered if she even knew how beautiful she was. He thought about earlier when he'd helped her put her helmet on, they were so close. She'd watched him the entire time, without a word, her warm breath on his face. All the feelings he'd had for years were returning with a vengeance. Feelings he'd buried under sarcasm, lechery and brutal comments were rising to the surface and it scared him. He needed to figure out how to deal with this without saying or doing something he would regret.

When Cuddy returned she found him talking to a man. He looked to be in his sixties with a long gray beard and fedora, leather vest, worn blue jeans and boots.

"Well Doc, who is _this_ lovely lady?" The man asked as she approached.

"This...is my boss," he said. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

"I wanna come work with you my man." The man offered his hand to Cuddy. "Walt Jackson ma'am."

"Nice to meet you," she said. The man's handshake was firm and friendly.

"So you're his boss, eh?" He asked with a wink.

Cuddy blushed. "Yeah."

"You must be something really special to keep this son of a bitch in line." He laughed heartily.

She looked over at House bashfully. "Well, he is a handful at times."

House grinned.

"Listen man, we're up next. You wanna join us for a few?"

House seemed genuinely surprised.

"Oh come on, it's been a while."

Cuddy looked over at House with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure."

"Good. We're warming up in a few minutes." He turned to Cuddy. "Nice to have met you, Dr. Cuddy." He tipped his hat and headed toward the gazebo.

"Come on," House said.

"Where are we going?"

He pointed ahead of them. During the break, a spot had opened underneath a tree in front of the gazebo.

Cuddy grabbed the blanket and backpack and followed him. People were taking breaks and moving about. It seemed more people had gathered since they'd first arrived.

When they reached the tree, he said, "Front row seat."

Indeed it was a perfect location. Cuddy spread out the blanket and sat down. House chose to lean against the tree.

"You're really going to play?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah."

She was excited. It wasn't often she had the chance to watch him play.

"Wow."

"You act like you've never seen me play before?"

"It has been awhile."

"How quickly you forget the Oncology benefit. Of course you had too much to drink."

"I was not drunk," she stated adamantly.

"Didn't say you were drunk but _tipsy_ Cuddy did make an appearance."

"I was not tipsy."

"You leaned."

"I did not."

"Trust me," he said. "I know a good lean when I see it. You definitely _leaned_."

Before she could reply, the band began to warm up on stage.

"That's my cue," he said. He limped toward the gazebo then turned around and waggled his eyebrows at Cuddy which made her laugh.

Cuddy didn't know anything about the Blues other than what House had told her but it didn't matter because once the music started, she was once again thoroughly engrossed in it. She loved its beauty and soul and the stories it told. As they played, she surveyed the crowd. People were dancing including couples and parents with young children. Everyone was having a great time. Then she looked back to the stage. No one seemed more into it than _House._

Much like he was when deeply involved in a case, House at the piano was completely focused and concentrated. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and a smile adorned his face as his hands glided over the piano keys. To her, he seemed younger, as if transported back in time and it tugged at her heartstrings. She loved seeing him like that. It did something to her.

It had only been a few days but the more time she spent around him, the harder it was to deny her feelings which had creeped up on her surreptitiously. These were feelings she'd had since she'd first met him in Michigan and which, over the years, she had forced out of sight, out of mind, reminding herself that being involved with him would bring her nothing but pain. But now, it was difficult not to let those feelings surface when she saw him like this.

The band played for about twenty minutes and when they were done, they received a standing ovation including Cuddy who was on her feet shouting and wolf-whistling, which did not go unnoticed by House who bowed in her direction. She watched as House shook hands with the rest of the band then he limped off stage and rejoined her.

When he approached her, she grabbed his arm and squeezed it.

"That was terrific!" She said, giddy with excitement.

"You liked it?"

"Are you kidding? I loved it!"

He couldn't help but grin at her excitement and he hadn't seen her smile like that in years. He looked over her shoulder. "Hey, there's an ice cream truck, you want one?"

She turned in the direction he pointed. She hadn't had ice cream from a truck since she was a kid.

"Sure."

She rolled the blanket up and placed it into the backpack and followed him. They walked slower than they had earlier because House was favoring his leg. She didn't want to say anything because she didn't want to ruin the mood. But she didn't want him to think she was pretending nothing was wrong either. In the end, she chose to say nothing.

As they walked, she talked excitedly about the band.

"Those guys...they're all so talented. Are they professionals?"

"Not really. The guy you met...Walt, he's an IT expert."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you thought he was a biker?"

"Well, yeah."

"The guy on sax, he's a dentist. The guy on trombone, a high school math teacher and the guy on drums is a mechanic."

"Seriously?"

"Yep." They arrived at the truck and House ordered two dipped vanilla waffle cones.

"You remembered what I liked?"

"You didn't _always_ hate sugar."

"I don't hate it, I just limit it."

"A little sugar never hurt anyone. Look at me, a red sucker a day keeps the doctor away."

"Yeah your teeth are going to rot from those things."

"Then why do you put them out?"

"For the children, House."

"And their teeth won't rot?"

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Shut up!" She said.

He stuck his tongue out at her then paid the man and took their cones, handing one to her. "Come on, I need to rest my leg," he said nodding toward a picnic table in the area.

They sat on top of the table, eating their cones and talking about the music and after that they just watched the people milling about. House managed to diagnose most of the people and when he ran out of illnesses he pointed out personal details he could never possibly know. He pointed out the single fathers who saw their kids only on weekends, soccer moms, women cheating on their husbands...it went on and on and he had her laughing so hard she was nearly in tears.

They remained there when the music began again. They watched the crowd and just a few feet in front of them was a young father and daughter who looked to be about four or five years old. He swung her about, her giggles filling the air around them. A woman they assumed was the mother, approached the twosome and the father handed the little girl over to her. The mother began swaying to the music with the little girl in her arms.

House looked over at Cuddy. She was watching the threesome with a longing look in her eyes.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." She looked down. "I'm fine."

House studied the scene in front of them and then turned to her. "Is it like that for you all the time?"

She understood what he meant. "Not all, but most. Is it ever not going to hurt?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he responded honestly. "But you don't have to let it define you."

"I'm not letting it define me," she said defensively.

"You are. You're defining yourself by whether or not you can have a kid. You're way _more_ than that Cuddy and you know it."

His words were straightforward as always and they comforted her greatly. She glanced over at him with a faint smile of thanks and he returned it with his eyes. No further words were exchanged, nor were they needed as they finished their ice cream cones and listened to the music.

* * *

They left the festival around seven and not having eaten in hours, they stopped at a small waterfront diner. Knowing it would help to elevate his leg, Cuddy asked the hostess for a booth in the back. It turned out to be the last booth available. When they sat down, House breathed a sigh of relief as he propped his leg on the bench next to him.

"Bless you, woman." He'd been thankful she'd had the foresight to ask.

She chuckled. "Wait, I need to record this. Can you say that again?"

"Never."

After the waitress took their orders and brought them their drinks, Cuddy leaned forward and looked at House.

"I'm so glad we did this!" She said.

"I knew you'd enjoy it."

"Who would've thought, right?"

"What? You didn't think you could have fun with _me_? Oh _partypants_, how soon you forget."

Cuddy blushed and picked up her menu and held it in front of her face. House pulled her menu down. "Don't hide. You know how much fun I can be, _don't you_?" He teased.

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "House, now is not the time or the place."

"You know...I've never told anyone about us."

A look of surprise registered on her face. "Never?"

"Nope," he said, shaking his head.

"Not even Wilson?"

"Not a word. You?"

She flushed and looked down at the table.

"Oh my God you bragged about me didn't you? You told _all_ your girlfriends...and maybe a few boyfriends?"

She smacked him gently on the arm. "Ego much? And no I did not _brag_ about you."

"Sure..."

"I didn't. I just told Julia."

"You told your sister?"

"She knew all about you anyway." She realized at that moment she'd probably said too much but it was too late. "I talked about you a lot okay? When I went home on spring break after I first met you...I told my sister. She told my parents. I'd just met you and the first thing mom asked is if you were Jewish."

"That sounds like her," he said.

"Yeah. She wouldn't let it go but after you left..." She stopped and looked up at him.

He knew where she was headed. "Listen...there's something you should know about that."

She put her hands up. "No...it's okay House. It was a long time ago. We were both young, there were no expectations. Let's not ruin a good day by talking about regrets."

She'd attempted a smile but he saw through it. He heard her words but the emotion in her voice and the look on her face conveyed something different. Before he could continue, she changed the subject and he decided to go along with it, for now. He definitely wanted to talk to her about it later.

The waitress interrupted them when she returned with their food. When she left, House picked up the conversation.

"I talked to Wilson this morning," he said.

"Really? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, he came by to see me. Said he couldn't get a hold of either of us last night."

"I turned my phone off."

"Seriously?"

"I said I needed some time away. I meant it. What did you tell him?"

"That I spent the night with you."

She nearly choked on her salad. "You _what?"_

He grinned and shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. "Yeah and that you were all up on my jock."

"What the hell, House?" She asked, bordering on angry.

"Oh come on, do you really think I'd tell him that?"

"You sure you want me to answer that?"

"Okay fine, maybe but this time I didn't. I told him I spent the night in the guest room and that we had breakfast together and _nothing_ _happened_."

"Thank you."

"I don't kiss and tell," he assured. "_You_ should know that." _Not about the things that matter_ he wanted to add but refrained.

"I do know, thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

It was late when they pulled into her driveway. He turned off the engine and it was eerily quiet around them. Cuddy extricated herself from the bike.

"Oh my God, my legs!" She said as she bent over and touched her toes. House did a double-take, watching her in awe of her flexibility.

"House stop staring at my ass," she said.

"You can't even see what I'm doing!"

"I can _feel_ it." She said as she straightened up and turned to him.

The view of her ass may have been a sight to behold but even more stunning was the sight of her in his black leather jacket. He was glad he'd had the foresight to bring it along as the weather had gotten quite cool on their trip home. Looking at her in it, he felt his cock twitch. She was so incredibly sexy and dare he say..._adorable_.

Sudden pain interrupted his thoughts. He reached down and rubbed his thigh. Cuddy immediately grew concerned.

"Shit, how bad?" She asked.

"It got a workout today. It'll be fine." He said, noting the guilty look on her face. "Cut the guilt Cuddy. I had fun. It was worth it," he assured her.

She handed him the helmet but he refused.

"You keep it," he said.

"You sure?"

"I bought it for you. With any luck you'll use it again."

She smiled coyly. "_That_ Dr. House, is a definite possibility."

"You know," he said looking around at the darkness that surrounded them. I'm thinking it is way too late to drive home especially in this weather."

She looked up and laughed at him. "There's not a cloud in the sky!"

He smirked. "I'm sure there is _somewhere_."

"You trying to worm your way into my guest room again?" She asked in a flirtatious tone.

"That obvious?" He couldn't help but adore the way she tilted her head and smiled at him.

She brought her thumb and forefinger together. "Slightly."

The flirtatious banter had taken a sudden turn and they both knew it. Unsure what to do next, they endured an awkward moment of silence until Cuddy stepped closer to the bike and leaned forward, her hand reaching up to touch his jaw, her thumb brushing the stubble on his right cheek. She watched him close his eyes at her touch. She wanted to kiss him and feel his tongue in her mouth and just breathe him in till they both ran out of air but something stopped her and instead she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

House shivered at the tone of her voice, the feel of her warm breath in his ear. He composed himself as she pulled away.

"You're welcome," he replied. He wanted to say more. So much more. But he held back, afraid it might be too soon, the wrong time. He couldn't take the chance of pushing her away or saying something he might regret.

Cuddy ran her hand from his face down his arm then gave it a light squeeze. She turned and started up the walkway to her front door. He watched until she made it inside safely. Before she closed the door she looked back at him and smiled. He nodded and turned the key in the ignition. He sat there for a moment and pressed his hand to the cheek where her lips had been moments earlier. It still felt warm. _God, that woman is going to be the death of me_, he thought. He then backed the bike out of the driveway and headed home.

Cuddy closed the door behind her and headed straight for the kitchen without turning on any lights for the moonlight streamed brightly through the kitchen windows. As she filled her glass from the tap, she stared out the window at the flower garden, recalling what had taken place just moments earlier. She had wanted so badly to kiss him, really kiss him, like she knew they both needed. It was fear that had stopped her from doing it. Though she liked the direction things had taken, in the back of her mind, she could not shake the feeling that it would all come crashing down at any moment. It scared the hell out of her because she knew if that happened, they might not recover. Now that he was back in her life, she couldn't bear to lose him again and she was sure he felt the same.

She couldn't help but smile when she thought about the day they'd had. She was proud of House for taking such a big step and allowing himself to enjoy it. She could tell that his leg hurt more as the day went on but he never once complained. She wished he didn't feel the need to hide his pain from her and she hoped in time he could talk to her about it. She recalled her words that morning, that he'd let the pain dictate his life, that he had given in to it but she'd begun to reconsider those words. Today he had shown her that she was wrong. Though his pain had changed him and altered his lifestyle dramatically, he continued to fight it with everything he had.

_So much that he faked cancer for a treatment that would help, _she thought._  
_

A tear escaped one eye as she realized how greatly she had misjudged him. While he had changed, become more withdrawn since the infarction, House had not given up, he was merely coping as best he could. She knew that he always found a way. He had always been a _survivor_. She knew she should be more supportive and understanding of his pain and his fight against it. She didn't know if he would accept her help but she would make sure he knew she was there for him.

She sighed and placed the empty glass in the sink. She padded down the hallway to her bedroom, turned on the lamp next to the bed and sat down. As she kicked off her shoes and began to undress, that's when it hit her.

She hadn't given him his jacket back.


	11. Chapter 11

_She couldn't help but smile when she thought about the day they'd had. She was proud of House for taking such a big step and allowing himself to enjoy it. She could tell that his leg hurt more as the day went on but he never once complained. She wished he didn't feel the need to hide his pain from her and she hoped in time he could talk to her about it. She recalled her words that morning, that he'd let the pain dictate his life, that he had given in to it but she'd begun to reconsider those words. Today he had shown her that she was wrong. Though his pain had changed him and altered his lifestyle dramatically, he continued to fight it with everything he had._

_So much that he faked cancer for a treatment that would help, she thought.  
_

_A tear escaped one eye as she realized how greatly she had misjudged him. While he had changed, become more withdrawn since the infarction, House had not given up, he was merely coping as best he could. She knew that he always found a way. He had always been a survivor. She knew she should be more supportive and understanding of his pain and his fight against it. She didn't know if he would accept her help but she would make sure he knew she was there for him._

_She sighed and placed the empty glass in the sink. She padded down the hallway to her bedroom, turned on the lamp next to the bed and sat down. As she kicked off her shoes and began to undress, that's when it hit her._

_She hadn't given him his jacket back._

* * *

Cuddy had been sleeping soundly when she was awakened by a loud noise. She sat up in bed, her eyes wide open. She glanced over at the clock. It was five forty-five and still dark outside.

With her phone in hand, she crept slowly down the hallway and stopped when she heard movement in her kitchen. Her finger hovered over the 911 button on her phone and then she smelled it.

Coffee.

She shook her head, annoyed at her confirmation.

"House!" She yelled entering the kitchen.

House, who had his head in the refrigerator, dropped something and turned around quickly.

"You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you in_ my_ kitchen. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Umm...came to get my jacket back."

She leaned against the door frame. "Funny, I don't remember putting it in _there," _she said, her chin jutting toward the refrigerator.

"Okay fine, if you must know I came to get my jacket and thought you might like some coffee...and _maybe_ breakfast."

That's when she noticed the plastic bags on her kitchen counter. He reached into them and began pulling things out. Eggs, syrup, tomatoes, mushrooms...she guessed he was going to make omelets.

"It's Sunday morning, you're on vacation. You should be sleeping in," she said.

"Sleep is overrated."

"Pain." She didn't have to ask, she knew. It never allowed him to sleep more than a few hours at a time.

"Yeah."

Realizing she might as well make herself comfortable, she sat down at the table in her kitchen. He filled a mug and brought it to her.

"Hello girls," he said looking down at her slightly exposed cleavage. She'd worn a tank top and shorts to bed and had only haphazardly thrown on her robe.

"You're such a pervert." She said, closing her robe.

"Party pooper," he said as he pulled out a cutting board, knife and other assorted items.

She watched him as he chopped ingredients. He was precise and focused. As always.

"House, you know you really didn't have to do this."

Without looking he replied, "I know I don't have to, I want to."

"You ever do this for Wilson?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't appreciate it. Besides Wilson had a _sleepover_ last night."

"With who?"

"New ICU nurse."

Cuddy tilted her head in thought trying to remember the new nurse they'd hired.

"Large breasts," he said as if reading her mind.

That's when it hit her. "Her _name_ is _Kelly_. I just hired her before I took off. How does he even know her?"

"I'm sorry...were you not listening when I mentioned those two large things in her bra?"

"You're disgusting," she sneered.

"Don't blame me, blame my gender," he shot back.

She sat there quietly drinking coffee and looking around the kitchen.

"I really should go do my yoga," she said, finally.

He looked up and frowned. "Seriously? _Now_ you tell me."

She nodded.

"Can't you skip this morning?"

"I try not to miss a day."

"What's the harm if you do miss one? Dare to be _different_, Cuddy."

She scoffed. "Says the guy who wears the same clothes for decades and drives a twenty year old car."

"It's not twenty years old."

"Close enough. Look, my point is-"

He stopped what he was doing, threw down the knife and looked up at her, clearly frustrated. "Jesus Cuddy, I just thought it would be nice to cook you breakfast. Why can't you just enjoy it?"

She watched him as he spoke. She could see it meant a lot to him. It was true she rarely ever missed a day of yoga but once wouldn't hurt her. And it _was_ nice of House to cook for her even if he'd broken into her house.

She waved a hand at him. "Okay, fine. Wow me with your culinary skills."

She could have sworn she saw him smile. She drank her coffee and watched him. As with everything else, he was precise and methodical in his preparations. He made the slicing and dicing of ingredients for the omelets and the graceful way he flipped the pancakes, without missing beat, look like an art. In no time at all, he limped over to the table sans cane with two plates of food.

Though she normally did not eat much for breakfast, Cuddy was exceptionally hungry after smelling the pancakes and she dug into them as soon as House set the plate on the table. She couldn't help it. They smelled so good.

"Oh my god," she said out loud and unashamedly after the first bite.

He smirked as he watched her. He loved the way her eyes closed, her throat moved as she swallowed, the way her tongue licked the syrup from her lips.

"God House, these are delicious."

"Of course." _So are you_, he thought.

"Who taught you how to cook like this?"

"Mom. When my dad was deployed, it was just me and her."

She raised a curious eyebrow.

"Is it so shocking?"

"You were close with your mom back then?"

He shrugged. "I guess." He seemed indifferent in his answer.

"I bet you were cute in an apron," she said with a chuckle.

"I _never_ wore an apron."

"Mmm hmm...sure."

"Shut up and eat," he said.

Thirty minutes later, after House had made a second batch of pancakes, at _her_ request, their plates were clean.

"God, I can't remember the last time I ate that much."

House raised an eyebrow and received an eye roll in return.

Cuddy pushed back her chair. "I'm going to shower."

"I'll just clean up and go," he said, as he rose from his chair.

"Why are you leaving?"

He looked at her.

"We're going out today," she explained.

_"We?"_

"Well, originally it was just going to be me but since you broke into my house-"

"I used the key."

"And since you're here, _you_ are going with _me_."

"Where are _we_ going?"

"Philadelphia. Japanese Arts Festival."

_"Art?"_ He whined.

"It's not _just_ art, House. It's many things...martial arts, dance, music. And before you say no, trust me that you will like this."

"How do you know?"

She shot him a knowing glance. "Because I know you. Now," she motioned with her hands. "Clean up this mess. I'll go get ready."

"I'll go on one condition."

She turned.

"We take the bike."

"House..."

"Come on, it's supposed to be a nice day today."

She thought about it. She had enjoyed the ride yesterday. Why not?

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay fine."

She headed down the hallway. She heard footsteps close behind.

"Dream on, House." She said with a throaty laugh just before she closed the bathroom door.

House smirked to himself, turned around and headed back into the kitchen.

* * *

Two hours later, they were sitting in the second row of the Center for the Performing Arts watching a martial arts performance. When it was over, everyone stood and applauded.

"That was just incredible," Cuddy said loudly.

House leaned over to her. "People think martial arts is about Kung Fu, the art of attack and defense. But it's not about fighting, it's just the opposite."

She looked puzzled.

"Find me a bathroom first then I'll explain it."

They sat in the lounge drinking tea and waiting for the next show to begin as House explained martial arts to Cuddy. He had given her a short history and explanation of it.

"So it's really about peace, not war?" She asked.

"Exactly," he said. "It's about improving the mental, physical and spiritual while at the same time polishing combat skills. It develops character and discipline. A true martial artist avoids unnecessary conflicts by all means and does not take combat lightly. Yet, when confronted by unjust threats, a martial artist will fight back with an absolute resolve."

"That is really fascinating. I had no idea." It never ceased to amaze her the depth of his knowledge about so many things. "Did you learn all this when you lived in Japan?"

"Most of it," he said. "What I didn't learn there, I read."

She smirked. Of course he did. She'd always known he was an avid reader and had an insatiable appetite for information.

"So," he said, gesturing to the program in her lap. "What's next on the agenda?"

They attended four more events that day and concluded with a performance of Prokofiev's sonata by a renowned Japanese violinist. Cuddy loved classical music and she sat enraptured listening to the young violinist. At that moment she looked over at House and smiled at what she saw. His eyes were closed and his head moved with the music. His lips were slightly parted and on his face, she saw a sense of calm and peace that she had not seen in years. So often she'd walked into his office at the hospital and found him laying on the floor with his headphones on listening to records. During those times he'd been neck deep in difficult cases and she knew the music relaxed him and helped him think. Music was a part of his process and she never disturbed him when she found him like that.

Sensing he was being watched, House opened one eye and peered over at her.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked.

"Oh, shut up," she said, gently smacking him on the arm.

It was just after eight o'clock when they exited the venue. They were on the bike and ten minutes outside Philadelphia the weather turned.

"Shit, I thought you said it wasn't supposed to rain," she said when they got to a stoplight.

"That was this morning!"

She looked around, concerned. "We're going to have to stop somewhere soon."

House nodded in agreement. "Just let me get us out of the city."

Fifteen minutes later, House pulled over at the Elkins Park Inn in a small rural area outside Philadelphia. They managed to get off the bike and inside just as the rain came down.

They were informed the small inn had two available rooms, a double and a king.

"We'll take both" Cuddy said, pulling her credit card out of her pocket.

House stepped in. "We'll take just the one with two beds."

"What?" She looked at him curiously.

"What if someone else needs a room tonight? Wouldn't want the poor soul to be without, would you?" He asked with puppy dog eyes.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You just want to share a room." Handing the clerk her credit card, she said, "Fine, we'll take the double."

After getting extra towels and a few necessary toiletries, they headed to their first floor room. Upon entering they turned on the light and noticed the glass doors on the opposite wall leading to a small patio. They could see the rain coming down in sheets outside while tree branches swayed angrily.

House tossed his cane aside and fell back on the bed farthest from the window. "Mine," he said.

"Do you mind if I shower first?" She asked, sitting down on the other bed and taking her shoes and socks off.

"Have at it," he said.

Feeling the chill, she went over to the heating unit and turned it on before going into the bathroom. He called for her from behind. She turned and he threw his button-up shirt at her.

"You can wear that."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm guessing you'll want something to sleep in."

"Thanks." She threw the shirt over her shoulder.

While Cuddy showered, House turned on the television then kicked off his shoes and socks and laid back on the bed. He picked up a take-out menu from the table next to him and ordered Chinese then he turned the off the only light that had been on, leaving the room aglow with just the light emanating from the television screen.

He leaned back against the headboard, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the television but not watching, just listening to the sounds of the shower. Cuddy was just a few feet away, naked on the other side of that door. It did things to him. It made him feel funny.

He thought about the day they'd had. Once again they laughed and enjoyed their usual banter. He had to admit it was nice without the bitterness. He didn't know if being away from work had something to do with it but whatever it was he liked it. He just wasn't sure how long it would last.

While House reminisced over his day with Cuddy, she was in the shower doing the same. As she took her time in the shower, she was distracted by thoughts of House. It'd been a wonderful day and she wished it never had to end. He'd been so relaxed the past few days and she loved seeing him laugh. She liked this House and wanted to see more of him.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, wishing she had clean underwear. She slipped on her panties and decided to go without the bra, which wouldn't be very comfortable to sleep in. Picking up the shirt, she brought it to her nose and took in the scent that was decidedly him and she liked the warm feeling that spread throughout as she slid the shirt over her bare torso and buttoned it up. She looked into the mirror and nearly laughed out loud at how silly she looked in it. It practically swallowed her.

She entered the room and spotted him sitting on the bed watching the weather, a styrofoam container on a pillow in front of him.

"I ordered you the vegetable plate and two spring rolls," he said, through a mouthful of food. "With extra duck sauce."

"Thanks," she said, delighted that he remembered what she liked. She put her clothes on the round table grabbed her dinner from the table and sat on the bed with her food.

"You better eat it all because I had to pay the guy extra to get him to deliver in this storm."

"It'll be money well spent I assure you," she said. She sat Indian-style on the bed, with a pillow on her lap. She knew the shirt rode up her thighs, but at that moment she didn't care. She just wanted to eat.

House's eyes roamed the expanse of her bare legs then he watched her dig in. "That's it put some meat on those bones," he teased.

"Wait, aren't you the one always telling me how big my ass is?"

"Your ass is fine. The rest of you needs to keep up with it."

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of a spring roll.

"Oh my God, this is so good," she moaned.

House watched as she devoured the spring roll, licking her lips as she placed the last of it in her mouth. He felt himself get hard. _Down boy_, he said silently.

They ate in relative silence, broken only by occasional quips from House about the idiocy of the people doing the weather broadcast. When they finished, he got up and limped toward the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a bath. Wanna join me?"

She laughed. "I already showered."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"That wasn't what I asked."

"_Fine._ No House, I would not like to bathe with you but thank you for asking," she said, amused.

He bowed. "More room for me," he said. "You mind if I leave the door open?"

"Go ahead."

"Okay but don't peek," he teased.

She chuckled from her place on the bed.

House ran the water and when it was half full, he climbed in. The tub was huge and allowed him plenty of room to spread out. He let out a sigh of relief for the heat felt so good on his leg. He thought about the fact that only a short time before, Cuddy had been in there naked. His cock got hard again just thinking about it. He thought of taking care of business himself but it was risky with the door open and her in the next room. He sank down deeper into the water and closed his eyes.

Cuddy turned off the television and turned on the lamp beside her bed. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her messages and when she was finished, she picked up the trash from dinner and discarded it. Then, remembering a nightly ritual she hadn't done yet, she picked up the tube of toothpaste and one of the toothbrushes she'd gotten at the front desk. The mirror on the bathroom door reflected House in the bathtub. She could see him resting, his left arm hanging out and his head back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed. He was relaxed. It made her happy to see him like that.

"House," she called softly from outside the open door.

"Yeah."

"You mind if I come in and brush my teeth?"

"Nope."

She walked in and turned left to the sink, her back to the tub behind her. She proceeded to brush her teeth and while she was leaning over rinsing, she looked up into the mirror and caught a wide-eyed House smiling and staring at her lecherously. That's when she realized her shirt was riding up and he could see everything.

"I do like black," he said, suggestively.

She stood straight up and looked him in the mirror again. "You ass."

"Actually I think that'd be _you," _he said with an obnoxious smirk.

She rinsed her mouth then turned and faced him, leaning against the sink. "I wonder if that thing about shrinkage is an old wives tale or if it's really true," she said with an evil smile. She pushed herself away from the sink and walked the few steps toward the tub, her eyes never leaving his.

"Hey, naked here!" He yelled attempting to cover himself with his hands.

She waggled her eyebrows. "How does it feel to be ogled?"

"You know...if you want a ride on little Greg all you have to do is ask."

"That you named your penis is very disturbing."

"Again, she deflects."

"Again, he's an ass."

She leaned against the door frame. "I think I'll pass."

"You used to know a good thing, Cuddy."

She turned and laughed over her shoulder. "Oh believe me House, I still do."

Nearly an hour later when he got out of the bath, he dried off and then limped into the room wearing just his boxers and tee shirt. He found Cuddy was already under the covers, her back to him. He assumed she was already asleep.

He hooked his cane on the nightstand, turned out the lamp and settled under the covers. He laid on his back, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. It was difficult to focus on sleep with Cuddy in the other bed. He turned his head to glance at her, watching longingly as her body rose and fell with every silent breath. He had the urge to nestle behind her and wrap his arms around her and bury his nose in her hair.

House smiled to himself thinking of the physical closeness they'd shared lately thanks to their travels on his bike. It was one of the reasons he suggested taking it. Cuddy on the bike, snuggled up behind him, her arms wound around him tight, and her laughter that emanated from her whenever they took a turn too fast or when he suddenly gunned it and the wind whipped through her hair, was becoming one of his new favorite things in life.

House rolled over and rested on his left side. He wished he had the balls to tell her just what he thought about her. He'd always considered her to be the perfect woman. He had admired the things about her other men disliked, such as her need for control and her assertiveness and aggressiveness. He watched in awe as she took on insurance company CEOs, tough-talking lawyers, high-priced doctors and her own Board of Trustees. She was relentless, never flinching, and never backing down. She went toe-to-toe with him, never putting up with his crap, giving back to him always as good as she got. She was the only one who could handle him and he considered her his equal in every respect. It had been that way since they first met in Michigan and he respected and admired the hell out of her for it. As he let out a yawn and rubbed his tired eyes, he wondered why he'd never told her that.

Cuddy opened her eyes and stared at the rain coming down outside the glass patio doors next to her bed. She'd been in that state between wake and sleep where she was relaxed but could hear everything going on around her. She could hear House breathing, his sighs and the rustle of the covers as he moved about. She could feel his eyes boring into her. He had that effect. She always knew when he was watching her. She wondered what he'd think if he knew she was thinking about him. It was hard enough that he'd recently spent the night in her guest bedroom but now...in the same room. She only wished she had the courage to act on her them but she knew it would change everything. Of course everything had changed when they'd started spending more time together. But if things progressed, if they took the next step, there was np going back. This was the last thought that crossed her mind before her eyes closed and she finally fell asleep.

* * *

House woke a few hours later, needing to relieve himself. He sat up and rubbed his thigh then headed to the bathroom, stopping first to get the bottle of Vicodin out of his jacket. He did his business, washed his hands then took two Vicodin out of the bottle and set it on the counter. He filled a glass and turned off the faucet and just as he was about to take the pills, he caught the reflection of Cuddy's sleeping form in the mirror behind him. He tilted his head and observed her for a moment then looked down at the pills. After some consideration, he put one back in the bottle, swallowed the other and chased it down with the water.

He turned off the light in the bathroom, tucked the bottle back into his jacket and walked over to his bed, stopping first at hers. The rain had stopped and there was just enough of a glow from the moon outside to shed a faint glow into the room and onto her bed. She was so peaceful and serene, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He eased himself onto the bed and watched her sleep. Her bare arm lay there and he wanted to reach out and caress it.

He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. Lately, he was the closest thing to being happy as he'd been in years and it was because of her. He loved being with her, he felt less pain with her, she made him want to be a better man. He wanted more of that feeling. He wanted more of _her._

As if she sensed his presence, Cuddy woke suddenly. She turned her head and looked right at him. His face was partially illuminated by light of the clock radio on the nightstand. She rubbed her tired eyes and sat up quickly.

"House? Are you okay?" She asked, concerned.

"Yeah." He swallowed hard.

She tilted her head curiously.

"I had a good time today," he said, unexpectedly.

She gave him a sleepy smile. "Me too."

They sat there, gazing at one another, unsure of what to do next. In that moment, time seemed to stand still and neither of them moved or breathed. Finally, House leaned forward, slowly, reverently and without even thinking about it, Cuddy followed his lead. Her heart beat wildly as she met him halfway. In a moment of raw honesty and vulnerability, their lips brushed together and when they connected it sent a jolt through both of them that neither expected.

"Cuddy," he murmured softly against her lips.

"Right here," she said.

Cuddy moved her left hand to cup his jaw and caress his stubble as the fingers of his left hand tangled in her hair. Heads tilted, eyes closed. Warmth spread throughout their bodies as their lips met again. It wasn't desperate or demanding, but rather gentle and patient. They sampled but did not indulge, tasted but did not feast.

They parted slowly, both trembling ever so slightly. They were still close, their eyes locked.

"I probably should...," House said, breaking the spell as he nodded toward his bed without breaking eye contact.

"Yeah." She nodded.

House got up and limped over to his bed. Feeling suddenly warm, he laid on top of the covers. "Night, Cuddy," he whispered.

She pulled her covers up to her chin and rolled over facing him. "Night, House."

* * *

They got up early the next morning and stopped for breakfast at a local diner. They didn't talk about what happened the night before, what little conversation they had centered on the weather or the food interspersed with a bit of light banter. Their minds were preoccupied and the only thing either of them could think about was the kiss and as much as they'd wanted it, they couldn't find the right words to discuss it.

House pulled up in front of Cuddy's house just after eight-thirty. She climbed off the bike and looked at him.

"Thank you." She smiled at him and hoped he understood the significance of her words.

"You're welcome." He understood, all too clearly.

"I..." She started to say but couldn't get the words out. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Where had her courage gone? The best she could do was to look him in the eyes and hope she accurately conveyed to him what she could not express in words.

"Yeah." House nodded as if he understood. And he did. He wanted to respond but he couldn't seem to find the right words.

But they both knew at that moment, that everything _had_ changed.

She placed her hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly then turned and walked up the sidewalk to her front door, never looking back as she closed the door behind her.

House sat there for a moment, the bike idling, as he watched her go into the house. When she closed the door, he backed the bike out of her driveway and drove off.


End file.
